


A Moon Without a Tide

by angeburger, Lyxxie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A healthy mix of sad boys and soft boys, AU where the end of season 1 with Fred never happened because fuck that shit, Actual comic canon info on Jughead included but transferred to FP instead, But mostly canon compliant otherwise, M/M, Sad boys 3: this time it's personal, Serpent!Jughead, Three cheers for fighting over netflix choices with friends, slightly canon divergent, soft boys in love, southside serpents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeburger/pseuds/angeburger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxxie/pseuds/Lyxxie
Summary: “You remember Paradise Lost, Arch? Milton, last year? Lucifer was right, you know.” Jughead rises to his feet, getting close to Archie. “Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven? He was right.” He pauses a moment, getting closer still, voice at Archie's ear, lips grazing the lobe. “I'm reigning, not serving. I'll never serve again.”ORAfter the events of the end of season 1 (sans the thing with Fred), Jughead Jones takes his rightful place as the leader of the Southside Serpents.*COMPLETE*





	1. Cold desire makes the moon without a tide

**Author's Note:**

> Lyxxie says: "Welcome to our new world au of 'hey our boy looked extra great in that leather jacket, let's write a novel about it' because this is actually an enormous fic. You should all give usagi some love for carrying us through a sizeable chunk of the ending when I got writer-exhaustion. She's the best. Anyway, have fun with this romp on the wild side, children."
> 
> Usagi says: "I actually pitched this idea to Lyxxie on the way to a concert this past May. Crazy shit. I love her, and she's my favorite human I've met though the fandom. And I don't think we ever meant for this to turn out so crazy big but here we are. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy, my dudes." 
> 
>  
> 
> Title and chapter titles are from Yeah Yeah Yeah's "Gold Lion".

The moment Archie sees Jughead with that leather jacket on, he knows something is wrong. 

 

Jughead had been quieter than usual, not responding to texts or calls. Betty thought that he'd just needed more time to get over what had happened with his father, more time to heal after he found out about how Veronica and Archie had gone to search their trailer. 

 

But seeing him now, Archie isn't sure if it was any of that at all. There’s a roughness to him, a liquidity in his lope that hadn't been there before. 

 

“Jug?” Archie's voice is soft, hand reaching out, wanting to make contact, to bring him back - 

 

Jughead turns around. His eyes. That's what Archie realizes is wrong, aside from the fact that he looks skinnier than before. 

 

There's a hardness to them now, a darkness not dictated by the size of his pupils. A hunger. 

 

_ This isn't him. _

 

There's fire in those eyes now where before there'd only been embers. The smile resting on his lips looks like armor, meant to repel. Archie thinks of tarnished angel's wings, rusting silver. 

 

He looks at Jughead's eyes and thinks of burning gold. He thinks of thorns on roses sinking into naked flesh and ruined cities and the dark side of the moon. He thinks of shadows over fields of green, choking skies and distant thunder getting closer, barricaded doors and lakes of fire.

 

He thinks of endings. Brutal change and discarded feelings. The vast nothingness of apathy. 

 

“Hey, Arch,” That easy smile that's shut and locked tighter than a bank safe, a tone that lilts upward indicating surprise. He's leaving Pop's as Archie's going in. He has his bag, which probably has his laptop in it, which is a relief. That part of him that's always writing hasn't changed, and that's something to hold onto. 

 

“Jug, we've been looking  _ everywhere _ for you. Where have you - “ He follows Jughead out the door. “What-” Archie swallows, too many words barreling along his tongue to fight their way out.  _ What are you doing how are you where have you been why won't you answer any of my messages why why why where are you _

 

_ I miss you. _

 

Jughead's grin sharpens, looking at the flustered redhead. “You ask my foster family where I was?” 

 

“They said you were probably here.” 

 

“Ah.” 

 

Archie shakes his head, quick burst of anger for taking the bait, being distracted by it. “That doesn't answer my question, Jug. Where have you been? We've been worried sick - “

 

Jughead sits on the wall there in the parking lot, perching there all liquid and grace. “Could've fooled me.” His voice is still light, but his eyes snap, a sign of movement, of life, some heart beyond the shell. His muscles are tense, coiled, waiting. Archie's reminded of rattlesnakes, lying in wait before their rattles go off.

 

“Jug - “

 

Those eyes narrow, the grin sharpens a little more. “Please don't start ‘mother hen’ing me, Andrews. I don't need your permission to go out, or to stay out past the streetlights coming on.”

 

“I'm...I'm not telling you what to do,” Archie's brow is furrowed, hands clenching a bit to pull himself in defensively. “We just don't - we don't...talk anymore. I haven't heard from you in  _ weeks _ , you're ghosting me when we live in the same  _ town _ -” 

 

“We don't live in the same town, Archie.” Jughead’s voice is sharp now, tight. “Not anymore. There's a great big goddamned divide, and you're on the side of the angels.” 

 

“What? Jug, Southside is still in the city limits-”

 

“Not the way everyone thinks. Just look, that couple over there.” Jughead nods his head at a car, a man and a woman closing the doors behind them and walking in their direction. The man keeps glancing at them, furtive looks that have him switching sides with the woman to be between her and the two boys. When they quickly breeze past and shuffle into Pop’s, Archie looks back at Jughead to find that same hard edge in his eyes pushed into his jaw, his shoulders. “They look at me like I'm low-life scum, some hellish curse unfit to tread near their carefully manicured lawns.”

 

Archie sucks in a breath to battle his words but Jughead straightens up, lengthens his spine. 

 

_ The rattle's going off.  _

 

“Don't tell me otherwise. I'm the son of a murderer, after all,” his tone is back to being light, buoyant. “The apple never falls far from the tree, and so forth. I've just accepted my lot in life.” 

 

He bends, relaxing, and Archie feels alarm gathering at the base of his skull. 

 

“You remember  _ Paradise Lost,  _ Arch? Milton, last year? Lucifer was right, you know.” Jughead rises to his feet, getting close to Archie. “ _ Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven _ ? He was right.” He pauses a moment, getting closer still, voice at Archie's ear, lips grazing the lobe. “I'm reigning, not serving. I'll never serve again.” 

 

Archie's lost, face a scrunched up mess of confusion, and he can't order his words into any kind of rebuttal or coherent thought. Jughead smiles at him, a tick on one side that barely meets the requirements, and hefts his bag higher up on one shoulder. “See you around, Arch.”

 

Archie grabs him, a reflex from years long past, hand on his arm and fingers closing around the leather. It feels  _ wrong _ , even as it makes him stand taller, feels hot under his skin. “Jughead, you're not...I don't know what you think you are, what you think other people think you are, but you're not any of that.”

 

“You don't think I'm fit to rule?” The voice is light still, teasing, a contrast to the eyes Jughead brings up to meet his from the hand on his arm. With each passing beat, Archie can almost see shutters close in front of the other boy’s eyes, tinted glass to keep everything out.

 

“That's not - who  _ cares _ , Jug, I'm saying your dad didn't  _ kill _ anyone and you're not some devil I'm going to cast out.” Archie swallows, a thickness in his throat that tastes too acidic, too poisonous, too much like motor oil. “Why are you saying all this? You know I don't give a shit about what anyone else thinks. You have to know I-” he halts, flits eyes away for a tick before sliding them back. “You have to know we just want to see you.”

 

“ _ We _ , Arch? Or you?” 

 

Archie sidesteps the question. “Betty and Ronnie are really, really worried, Juggie. I am too. Betty's convinced that you're never coming back, and Ronnie’s afraid that you may be in some kind of death spiral emotionally.” Those were the words she'd used, at least.

 

“You better be taking care of them, Arch. Gotta protect them from the likes of me, from all those creatures that go bump in the night. Be the glittering knight in shining armour, pal.” Jughead winks, and there's poison there, a well of it, filled with writhing cobras. 

 

“Jug - “

 

“Ronnie needs someone who's going to protect her, fragile flower that she is.” It's said in passing, shoulder bumping against Archie's as he pulls his arm from the grip and stalks past him. The redhead follows him, eyes widening as he watches Jughead swing a lanky leg over a motorcycle, a beautiful creation that's all silver and highly polished chrome. 

 

“Uh, Jug…” Archie's trying to rip his eyes away from the sight and how  _ natural  _ it looks, a natural progression and evolution of things. “When did you get a motorcycle license?”

 

“Questions like that get your invitation to ride revoked, Arch.” Jughead looks positively smug at seeing Archie's surprise. “What can I say? I've been a busy little bee,” he sighs, stroking one of the bars fondly.

 

Archie's taken a few steps forward without realizing it, hand out like he wants to lay his fingers on the metal, feel the cold bite under his fingertips. “So you didn't, is what you're telling me.” He finds himself saying, still trying to work through how all of this happened.

 

The look Jughead gives him is loaded, eyebrows drawn over dark eyes and a smirk pulling his face apart. “Drawing the line at this particular illegality, huh? Don't want to take a walk on the wild side with me?”

 

Oh, but Archie  _ does _ , he does with a fierceness that he surprises himself with. His mouth feels dry with that want, that  _ need.  _ When did this desire come about, the want to feel the engine purr under his thighs, arms wrapped around the leather jacketed boy in front of him, some picture of sinful joyrides and dangerous liaisons?

 

Like a goddamned James Dean movie? Without the beanie and if he were blonde, Jughead would be a dead ringer for him.

 

Jughead's smirk says everything. “Thought so. See ya around, Andrews.” 

 

Before Archie can protest further, Jughead finds his helmet and fits it over his head, turning on the bike and peeling out. 

 

The absurd thought of  _ well, at least he's wearing a helmet _ flits through Archie's head. It's of little comfort as he watches the road for several moments after Jughead's sped off.

 

The rest of the evening is a dull blur, texting the girls to tell them about his encounter with their friend, sitting on his bed long after dinner’s done. Ronnie’s response is concerned frustration, wondering why Jughead can't still see them even if he's transferred schools. ‘ _ Does joining a biker gang mean he can't come get milkshakes with people who like him? _ ’ She texts the group chat of the three of them, and he frowns at his phone before replying. ‘ _ He doesn’t think he's a good person anymore, Veronica.’  _ Betty’s reply comes seconds later. ‘ _ This town’s beat it into him that he's poor trailer trash. They let him down, so he's showing them how right they are by acting out.’  _

 

Radio silence, Archie's heart squeezing painfully in his chest. ‘ _ Do you think we can get him back? _ ’ Ronnie types after several minutes. ‘ _ You've got the best chance, Archie. _ ’

 

Archie stares down at the phone in his hands, watches his fingers fly over the keypad of their own free will. ‘ _ I'm not going to stop trying, ever. _ ’

  
  


Later that night, far later, Archie wakes up from some strange hypnagogic thing that may or may not have been a dream, sweat trickling down his spine. It's after midnight, and he'd just been getting down deep into REM sleep (or trying to), but Jughead's still haunting him. 

 

_ No, not Jughead. It's his shadow, _ Archie decides. He has to draw a line between them. 

 

As he sits there, waiting for his heart rate to slow, after about twenty minutes of waiting he knows he won't get back to sleep, not tonight. Not with the Shadow haunting him, not this night where there's no moon to comfort him. All dark no stars, as Ronnie loves to say. It's a new moon tonight and that feels oddly fitting, he thinks, pulling on a shirt and some sweats. 

 

_ Meet me at the trailer,  _ he texts Jughead. He doesn't expect an answer (since it's been all radio silence anyway), but is surprised when a reply arrives moments later.

 

_ Fine. In ten minutes or I'm gone.  _

 

It's barely enough time to get there, and Jughead knows it. Archie curses and grabs his keys, hoping his father won't catch him sneaking out. 

 

He has to catch his breath a moment when he gets there, hands on his knees, sides and lungs pumping air furiously. His chest aches a bit from the run. When he looks up, he sees Jughead (no,  _ the Shadow _ , he reminds himself) perched up on the railing. 

 

“I was about to leave.” Jughead's tone is amused. “You're losing your touch, Arch.” 

 

“I'm not losing anything,” He huffs, still partly breathless, and tracks eyes over the dark parts of the other boy’s face. “Could  _ you _ have made it here in ten minutes without your new hog?”

 

Jughead snorts through his nose and pushes himself off the railing, landing a few feet in front of Archie. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jacket ( _ that damned leather jacket _ , Archie thinks, at the same moment a slither runs down his spine) and seems to size up the redhead in the relative quiet of the trailer park. “No, but that's not my thing anyway. You're the golden boy, Andrews. Can't quit your training now, aren't you almost a saint?”

 

Archie's eyebrows draw down, mouth pulling into a frown. The words feel too light, like even if Jughead meant them to be poisonous he can't fully bring himself to make them hit their mark. He watches the shadows swirl through Jughead’s eyes, behind the walls that begin to pop up again. “Why are you trying to make us sound so different?” He murmurs when he has his breath back.

 

That has Jughead blinking, like he never expected that question to fall from his lips. He laughs once, a surprised thing that sounds more like a bark, and steps up close to Archie again. “I'm a bad egg, Arch. A bad boy. You see the new jacket? It helps my image.” It's snarky,  _ almost _ like his old tone, and Archie wants to  _ sing _ with its return.  _ There's still part of the old Jug somewhere in there _ , Archie thinks with a flash of near-delight.  _ I can get him back _ .

 

“Your image was fine, Jug. You didn't really answer my question.”

 

Jughead raises an eyebrow. “I told you, Arch. Just accepting my lot, here. If the universe or god or fate or kismet or whatever's out there put me here, I figure that it's not wrong. I'm supposed to be here.” For that one moment, he sounds so  _ tired _ , and Archie feels his heart ache with it. “And it's a relief. I don't need to pretend as much here. I can just  _ be.” _

 

“ _ Dying is easy, young man, but living is harder. _ ” Archie's voice is soft, his smile sad. 

 

“Did you just quote a  _ Hamilton _ lyric in my general direction, Arch?” The twitch in the corners of Jughead's lips look real, and Archie can't keep himself from focusing on it.

 

“Miranda is a genius. You said it yourself,” Archie shrugs. “But Washington was right, there. You've basically just given up. Because it's  _ easier _ .” Archie's surprised at the disdain in his own words. “The Jughead I know? He wouldn't do that.”

 

Jughead stalks closer to him, a hair’s breadth away from his chest. “Did you really know me, though? Did I really know myself when I was with you guys?” It's almost more to himself than to the other boy, head tilted in thought. There's a hooded look to his eyes as he stares somewhere beside Archie’s head.

 

“Good to see your interest in existentialism is still alive and well.” 

 

This makes Jughead bark another laugh. “I've accepted my lot, Arch, not a lesser brain capacity. I wouldn't be fit to rule if I were living off of my brain stem like everyone else.” It's hissed, and suddenly they're closer and Archie's heart starts to pound. 

 

Silence. It's not a comfortable one. It's the kind of quiet that happens before a sentence is handed down, an execution carried out. 

 

“Does Ronnie know you're out here, past your bedtime?” The snark is back but it's sharper, weaponized and turned outward. 

 

“Didn't see her tonight.”  _ Interesting _ , Archie thinks. A chink in the armor revealing itself. He's not sure how he can use it yet, but he lets his mind start working on it. 

 

“That seems odd. I mean, when I was still with you guys, you’d basically made a second home there between her thighs.” Jughead's smile is liquid nitrogen, so cold it burns as he spits venom.

 

Archie blinks, a roaring in his ears like standing before a chasm. “I don't-”

 

“Don't what? Don't think that's any of my business? Maybe I’d’ve stayed if it  _ had  _ been, Archie.”

 

The words don't make any sense to Archie, puzzle pieces spread out with an image he doesn’t recognize. “You were interested in Ronnie? You had Betty, I don't understand-” But Jughead’s laughing again, head tossed back and howling out dark whisps of anger and pain. 

 

“ _ So _ close, Andrews. Better luck next time.”

 

And Archie finds himself mad, too, confused and hurt with the whole night, the past weeks, the loss of this boy. “You had  _ Betty _ . You were off solving mysteries together like the  _ Hardy Boys _ and leaving us all - leaving me behind. What was I going to do, ask to tag along like a useless third wheel?”

 

“Third wheel.” Jughead's still chuckling, shaking his head. “Oh man. You're the one who was too busy chasing after Val at that point. You were invited to come along. I even texted you to say that, man. But you… All you could think about was her. Or maybe not her as a person, but as an object. Something to  _ fuck _ .” His words are bouncing on air, almost manic in their gleeful righteousness. “A piece of ass. Something to claim. No, Arch. You as a third wheel?” He chuckles.

 

There's no moon and there's too much light pollution to see stars and the night has never been so dark. Wasn’t this how the end of the world started? Ragnarok? Loki’s child Fenrir the wolf swallowing the sun and moon to begin the end? 

 

Jughead accepting his lot as the  _ jormungandr, _ the world snake and Loki’s other son. Surely the trumpets to sound the end aren't far off. 

 

Archie can't remember those texts. Can't remember if he's right. Hopes, prays he isn't. 

 

And then Jughead's chest is against his, his hands gripping his cheek and jaw and the kiss is something bruising, hard,  _ angry _ . In the back of his head, Archie can almost hear those puzzle pieces slip into place with dull  _ thunks _ , the one he was working on tonight and the one he's been working on for years. His hands come up with the noise in his mind and grab onto the front of Jughead's jacket, fingers curling around the material as an anchor.

 

Jughead's pulled back after a few moments, dislodging himself from Archie's lips and hands and space. There's something fathomless in his eyes that Archie can't keep track of as they stand there, each pulling breaths into their lungs that don't feel like enough. 

 

Archie sees his hand come up, a little shaky, and reach out to Jughead in front of him. The other boy watches it, a slick smile forming at the edges of his mouth, and wipes at his bottom lip with his thumb.

 

“You know,” Jughead starts, and there's a new roughness to his voice that starts another rockslide down Archie's spine. “Betty tasted sweet. But you, Arch?” He reaches out a long, pale hand, sweeping the tips of his fingers down Archie's nose, pausing with slight pressure at his lips before continuing down his neck and chest, his belly, coming to rest at the border between the end of his shirt and top of his sweats. “I think you'll taste sweeter.”

 

The intake of air from the redhead is sharp and he feels dizzy. “What do you mean?” The puzzle isn't entirely complete yet, or maybe there's just a delay in all of the electrical signals in his brain. 

 

His confusion makes Jughead grin wide, a wolf at the door begging to come in. “I mean…” He flattens his palm against Archie's belly, stalking around him, eyes peeling him open, getting each layer down with ease. When he speaks next, Jughead's voice is at his ear, his chest to Archie's back. “Betty was like...the first fruit of the season. Like a flower that's just opened, and the pollen sticks to the roof of your mouth. But you,” Archie can hear the grin without even focusing, his body too mixed up in electrical signals to do much more than stand and stare into the night, ears stretched to hear every word and movement. “I think you’ll taste like that last moment in the fall before the fruit goes bad. That perfect moment of over-ripeness.” There's a chuckle, warm against the skin of his neck and Archie finds his head tilting towards it as Jughead speaks next. “That's what I think you'll taste like, Archie Andrews. The perfect forbidden fruit.”

 

His other hand is at his waist, cold from the night air, or maybe from the tundra that now fills the inside of Jughead. It  _ burns _ against the skin there as it inches up his shirt, fingers tracing floating ribs, the other hand still resting at that border between clothes. 

 

Archie's heart is racing, beating so hard that he's sure it's about to tear loose from his chest and run into the night. 

 

“Do you ever think about what  _ I _ taste like?” Jughead's lips now touch the shell of Archie's ear, and Archie's trying to focus on making sure his legs won't give out from under him. Is this how the fall began? Is this how it all started? The hand on his ribs is still going up, nails scraping their way along his skin. He's trying not to tremble, but that's a battle already lost. “I think you do. I think that's why you're here. Why else would you be out here past midnight when you have school in the morning? You’re supposed to be a good boy, Arch.”

 

Jughead's tsking is all mocking, but there's warmth there, buried underneath the honey, the silk, the poison. He's  _ pleased _ Archie's still there with him, that he hasn't left yet. 

 

“I am,” Archie tries to reassert (if just for his own benefit, if just to convince and remind himself), but his voice is soft, weak like his knees. Jughead nips hard at the shell of his ear, and Archie has to battle to swallow the sound that tries to get out because of it. 

 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jughead's laugh, his delight is genuine, nose behind his ear. “But good boys aren't out here so late with bad boys. Good boys…” The hand that had previously stopped at the clothing border now continues south, palming him through his sweats, fingers tracing the shape of him. “Good boys don't get hard from being around bad boys. My, what would Ronnie think?” Jughead's mocking, scandalized gasp makes the redhead shudder, fingers traveling back up only to sneak into his sweats, that cold hand not so cold anymore as it tucks under the waistband, grasping him firmly. Archie slaps a hand over his mouth at the feeling of a thumb running over the tip of his cock, gathering, spreading the wetness there. “Good boys sure as hell don't get  _ wet  _ from bad boys touching them, Arch. So maybe you're not a good boy after all. What are you, then?”

 

“I'm - “ Archie's moved the hand over his mouth up into his hair, grabbing at his roots and trying to remember how to  _ breathe _ but that's not working out very well. 

 

The thumb takes one last run around his tip before it's gone, the hand’s gone, and Jughead's back in front of him, making him watch as he tastes Archie, tongue flicking out to lick his thumb. 

 

“Well? I'm waiting,” Jughead raises an eyebrow. “Are you a good boy? Are you Ronnie’s knight in shining armour? Or are you anything but?”

 

_ Are you mine? _

 

Archie’s body feels like something between water and fire, something that’s licking through his system and leaving him too empty and too full. He's at the end of a series of thoughts about the two of them pressed up together, skin on skin, gasping moans and bruising grips, but he doesn't remember the beginning, or how he got there, or how they got  _ here _ . “Jug - “ he starts, and his voice is shaky with the remaining confusion.

 

Jughead’s raking eyes over his face, and when he meets his gaze again some of the darkness has ebbed out. “Hm. Maybe I'll take pity on you and ask a simpler question first. What do you  _ want _ , Archie?”

 

That answer is easy, so easy, like breathing or walking. “You, Jug. I want you.”  _ I want you, I miss you, please come back, come home.  _

 

_ Come home. _

 

A feral grin spreads across Jughead's lips, so pleased with his response. “And what do you think I taste like, Archie Andrews?” Gets close again, hands reaching for his waist, bringing their hips flush against each other. 

 

Archie mutters a soft curse, eyes slipping shut at that feeling of joined hips. “You…” he swallows, feels Jughead’s nose graze along his throat with a growling hum. “I think...I think you’d taste like smoke. Dark, like whiskey, or the sulfur on a match.” He tries not to make another noise as the hands grip into his hipbones. “Like...pine needles or fire or leather left out in the sun.” The last word is dangerously close to a whimper as Jughead snaps a hard bite at the corner of his jaw. “I think...you taste like bad ideas that want to be good ones.”

 

A huff of laughter, and Jughead's leaning his head back to look at him again. “Not just bad ideas in general?” He asks, and Archie feels more weight in the question than he does in his whole body, feet full of air where they touch the ground.

 

“No.” He shakes his head, raises a hand to slide it under Jughead’s jacket, press against the shirt and his side underneath. “I think you're the best idea I ever had, Jug.”

 

Jughead's smile is that armored smile again. “Such a sweet talker. All bad creatures under the sun want to be good, Arch,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Until they stop  _ wanting  _ to be good, that is. Then it doesn't matter so much.” 

 

“When did you stop wanting to be good, Juggie?” Archie's voice is soft, and arousal aside, his heart aches with Jughead's words. 

 

“Around the time it started costing too much, I suppose.” 

 

“So you threw everything aside?” He tries to make his words careful, can spot the cracks in the thin ice they stand on.

 

“When you're treading water and you're starting to sink, what do you do, Archie?” The anger is back, his eyes flashing with it. “Wanting to be good is a luxury I could no longer afford and I won't have you judge me for it.” He releases the other boy, stepping back, breathing deeply. “Judge me for it and you'll only prove my point.” 

 

Archie opens his mouth to reply, body trembling in the cold air from the lack of touch, but a screen door bangs open from a distant trailer and Jughead turns to the noise. When he looks back, the screens are back over his eyes, a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes.

 

“Anyway, I digress. I’ve got stuff to do, Arch.” He winks at him, turning away, and Archie reaches out again, grabbing only air as Jughead side steps him. “Sweet dreams.” He can hear him say as he leaves, unsure if he means it or not.

 

Archie doesn't sleep that night. 

 

Well, not quite - he manages a few very poor quality hours before having to go to school, but Jughead's words, his kiss, and his touch continue to haunt him. Betty and Veronica ask him about progress he's made but he just shakes his head, unable to answer. After school, he pleads illness for football practice (it isn't far from the truth, really), goes home, and sleeps. 

 

He wakes up again, somewhere around midnight to a text from Jughead. 

 

_ White Wyrm. 1AM.  _

 

Archie's eyebrows go up reading it, realizing how seriously Jughead's taking his slow descent as the new Serpent King. 

 

_ On my way.  _

 

It takes Archie a little longer to get to the Wyrm than he'd like, but he couldn't take the car. Not if he wanted to get to Jughead without being caught. He dresses this time, shoving on jeans and his letterhead jacket against the chill of the evening. 

 

Jughead's waiting for him outside, sitting on the front steps with a big white dog he's never seen before. In that moment, Jughead looks so happy, like he did with Vegas. Archie misses him, the old Jughead, the real Jughead with a ferocity that he surprises himself with. 

 

As Archie approaches, Jughead gives the dog one last kiss on the head and with a murmur, sends the dog off to a heavily bearded Serpent also hanging out there at the bar. He watches the redhead come forward, leaning a bit back on his elbows. 

 

“Well, if it isn't the golden boy in his letterhead jacket,” he purrs, legs parting just a bit more as if just for Archie alone. “Coming to see me for a clandestine midnight meeting. What  _ will _ the girls think, Archie?”

 

Archie tries not to take the bait. “Why am I here, Jughead?”

 

“I ask myself that all the time. Why are  _ any _ of us here, really?”

 

Archie rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

 

Jughead just laughs. “A good question. You ask yourself that, Pony Boy?” 

 

“I was under the impression we were going to continue our discussion from last night,” Archie shrugs, tries not to stare at Jughead or between his parted thighs. 

 

“What's there to continue? I meant what I said. I don't have the kind of privilege you do, Arch, gotta accept the new world order.” Jughead shrugs in return, turns his head to look out across the parking lot. “ _ Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. _ ” He quotes simply, pushing himself up to stand.

 

Archie watches his gait as the other boy steps closer, notes the feline grace in his limbs. He wonders if he's being looked at like a mouse, food to be played with before being devoured. Wonders if he knew that when he came here. As Jughead steps too close into his space again and Archie feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, anticipation sliding into his bones with a pleasurable thrum, he realizes he probably did. “We'd probably actually get somewhere in our conversations if you stopped quoting dead guys.” He mutters, noting the grin on Jughead's face with a flip of his heart. 

 

“You don't like our witty repartee?” Jughead's tone sounds teasingly disappointed, like he'd be pouting if he let himself. “Jeez, Andrews, tell me how you really feel.”

 

“The girls are only getting more worried about you by the day, Jug. Could you at least tell them you're alive yourself?”

 

“I could,” Jughead muses, “but where's the fun in that?” 

 

“Then what do you want me to tell them, man? Because there's only so many times I can tell them you're breathing.”

 

“You can tell them that the Serpent King is alive and well. Tell them he's looking for a queen.” Jughead waggles his eyebrows, “Or maybe tell them that he's already found someone,” he murmurs, getting closer. “Why else would you come when I called, Arch? You wanna rule hell with me together?” 

 

Closer yet, Jughead's hands sliding down his arms and stopping at his waist, holding on. 

 

“I mean, you wouldn't  _ mind  _ being a queen, right? Your gender expression and performance seem just fine, so you're secure there. But what else can I possibly think, with you just  _ melting _ in my arms like that last night?” Jughead's voice is right by his ear again. “I bet if you let me, I could make you scream.” A shiver runs through Archie’s body at the points of contact, so quick and intense that he's not sure who caused it. “Although I'm sure your response would want to be some rebuttal about how you could make  _ me _ scream, too. And maybe you could. Maybe we're both queens.” A grin pressed behind his ear, a laugh that sounds like dark chocolate and melting decadence.

 

What can he say to something like that? Jesus. 

 

He grabs the other boy and before Jughead can protest, kisses him. Archie puts every emotion he's had in the last day into it - love, hate, worry, fear, disgust, want, need. It's hard and hot and completely without mercy.

 

A kiss like the dark side of the moon. Like the time between high and low tide, like a solar eclipse. 

 

Jughead's surprised, but he grins into the kiss, pleased at having gotten what he's wanted. When Archie pulls back for a shuddering breath, Jughead chases after him, taking advantage of his parted lips to lick into his mouth. Archie's noise is that of a whimper, something that sounds too similar to Jughead's name for either of them to ignore.

 

“It might be much easier than I thought to make you scream.” Jughead's words are breathed against his lips, teeth tugging on the bottom one for a beat and smiling at Archie’s quick intake of breath. “And,  _ oh _ , I was right. You taste  _ exactly _ ,” it's another purr, fingers splaying out over his ribs -  _ when did they get under his shirt?  _ \- and pressing in. “like how I said you would.” 

 

Archie's not sure what's left inside him anymore, what's ruling his body or his actions or his thoughts that are running rampant with  _ more _ of this boy in front of him. “You, too.” He breathes back, and Jughead's grin is delighted.

 

“Come with me,” is all Jughead says, taking his hand and starting to pull. Archie's almost numb with need and shock that this is happening, so he just nods jerkily, letting the dark-haired boy lead on. Archie would gladly walk with him into hell itself if it meant more of those kisses, more of those hands on him, more of all that burning in his blood.

 

“You're in charge,” Jughead nods to the older Serpent with the dog, “and whatever happens can wait. Don't you dare disturb me, okay?”

 

The Serpent just shrugs. “Whatever you say, boss. Right, Hot Dog?”

 

The dog barks in response. It gets a fleeting genuine smile out of Jughead before the mask goes back on and movement resumes. They duck into an alley, and Archie finds himself pressed up against a wall. There's bricks against his back and Jughead lined up against his front, and Archie can't help but clench his fingers in the flaps of his jacket to haul the boy closer, hesitating at his lips before Jughead laughs and kisses him again. 

 

It feels like drowning and coming back to life, some strange kind of rebirth in his veins. That sweet moment between inhaling the waves and having them forced out, being  _ purified. _ It starts up his body like a machine, faster than he remembers ever being turned on in his life, and when he manages to uncurl one of his hands to move it around the back of Jughead's neck, the pleased noise the other boy makes sounds off a drum in his heart.

 

“Eager,” Jughead hums, and those teeth are back at his lips, nipping and pulling and bruising them, until they’re red and swollen like berries. “I like that.”

 

“Juggie -” Archie’s voice is scratched rough, sandpaper on stone. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, if there's anything he  _ can _ say, or if he just wants this strange shadow-creature in front of him to talk him through his death, the slow-motion loss of his soul.

 

“What do you want, Arch?” Jughead's lips are back over at his ear, making marks along his throat like new locations on a map, and Archie’s knees start to shake.

 

“I…” He keens as Jughead worries at a spot near his shoulder, and swears he can almost feel those blunt teeth turn sharp for a second. “ _ You _ .” 

 

“And?” A tease, the tone dark and syrupy, thick honey dripping from a spoon.

 

“ _ Please _ .” Archie knows it's a moan, knows the bricks are scratching the back of his head, but can only feel the parts of his body that Jughead's touching. The laugh runs through his body and Jughead pulls back, eyes black in the night-swept alley.

 

“Hmm.” Fingers dance down over his chest, sparking fires before resting at the top of his jeans. “Shall I just corrupt you, then?” The clink of his belt being undone seems loud to his ears, overpowering his rushed breaths. The button on his jeans pops open, zipper down and a tug at his pockets to drag it down a few inches. Jughead tucks those long fingers into his boxers, flushing them against the overheated skin of his hips, the strip below his navel. He pulls it down over his cock, freeing him with a swallow from Archie as Jughead lowers himself to his knees on the ground. “Or maybe I don't really have to corrupt you. After all, Arch, I don't think good boys  _ beg _ .” 

 

Archie feels the words over his skin like teasing touches, lighter than any graze of fingers but melting him just the same. “Jug,  _ fuck _ , you -”

 

“Do they? Do good boys beg for bad boys like me to suck them off in the alley behind a Serpent bar on the wrong side of town at 1:30 in the morning of a weekday?”

 

Archie moans, fingers digging into the skin at the nape of Jughead's neck as he looks down, the scene something he remembers imagining in those dark moments when he's alone, the last thing he sees behind his eyelids sometimes when he jerks off, just before he comes.

 

“ _ Jesus _ -”

 

“So I’ll ask you again, Archie Andrews.” Jughead leans in just a bit, lips grazing the air above the tip with each whispered word. “What are you?”

 

He's in too deep, this cataclysmic event he can feel, but he just wants  _ more _ , all of it, wants to see where this new Jughead will take him. “God, fu- _ uck _ , I'm yours, Jug,  _ ahh _ -” His only warning is a grin before Jughead surges forward in a quick movement to slide lips down over his length.

 

The sound is obscene, and Archie feels like even with the sound of the bar it's not enough, not enough to cover the slurps and aborted moans that Archie's trying to keep in check (because even Ronnie said he'd been too loud, and she was none too quiet, herself), to the point where he has to start biting his fist to muffle things. That doesn't seem to please Jughead, who glares up at him, drawing his nails down one thigh  _ hard _ , coupled with increased suction to wrench a loud, confused sob/moan from Archie’s throat. 

 

He pulls off long enough to smirk. “That's better. I want to hear you, Arch. I told you. I'm going to make you  _ scream _ . If you continue to muffle yourself like that, how can I be expected to work, here?” His voice is soft, but his eyes suggest that this is not a request. “Scream loud enough and I may even be convinced to let you return the favor. Or even better, I might even fuck you. That's fair, right?” His smile is beatific. “It's not everyday I offer these things. A place by my side,” he pauses and licks a stripe up his length, “a place in my bed.” Another pause as he bites at the divot in Archie's hipbone, pulling a whimper from the redhead. “I can be quite generous to my friends.” 

 

“Jug…” Archie's heart is torn, fighting with his body over the need to come. He slides a hand over the dark-haired boy’s cheek. Why couldn't this have happened under better circumstances? 

 

“No.  _ No.  _ You do  _ not _ get to look at me that way, Andrews.” Jughead's all snarl suddenly, eyes molten rock. “Like your heart is breaking, like this is killing you.” He runs a thumb over the slit, catching Archie off guard, making him almost yelp, eyes narrowed all the while. 

 

“Jug, please - “ 

 

“No. This is  _ my _ choice. Give me that much dignity.” 

 

“That's not - this is my choice, too, Jug, I just -” Archie's losing ground, shoulders slumping before the words are even out. 

 

“You just what?” 

 

Archie shuts his eyes and lets himself fall. He can see their conversation from earlier in a new light now, not a teasing jab but one last outstretched hand. 

 

‘ _ I can't come back, but you can stay with me. _ ’

 

He’ll take it. 

 

“Go ahead. I'll rule with you in hell if that's what it takes to be with you again.”

 

There's silence, and he opens his eyes to watch the shutters fall and break and fall again in the other boy’s eyes, walls being built and toppling down in the span of seconds, like he can't decide which side he's on, which side won. “You’re -”

 

“Don't call me the golden boy again.” Archie warns, and what he means to come out as firm still shakes with whatever turbulence they're riding. But there's a tick in Jughead's mouth, not reaching his eyes yet but trying, making the most progress toward a real smile so far. 

 

“You'll be my queen, then?” 

 

“I'll take  _ prince _ . I'm not going to dress up for you, Jug.” Archie’s laugh is strangled. 

 

“That might be negotiable.” Jughead gives him another almost-smile before swallowing him back down. He rakes his nails down Archie's thigh again, a reminder to give him what he wants, or else. 

 

It occurs to Archie then that he could be loud. There were no more Serpents that were their age or even close to help spread rumors, and he sincerely doubts they would go and displease their new leader that way so soon anyway.

 

Archie just nods in reply, tugging at his hair, a nudge forward. He can feel Jughead trying to grin and he'd be exasperated if he didn't  _ need _ so much. With the ginger grace of a tightrope walker, the dark-haired boy takes him as deep as he can, causing Archie to choke on his own sounds. “ _ Fuck _ , Jug - “

 

Pale seafoam eyes look up at him pleased, sparkling in triumph. Archie can't tell if he's pleased because of the sounds he's giving or Jughead's proud of himself for that stunt or possibly both, he's not sure. After his tongue impossibly continues to move, Archie decides it's both. 

 

“Only  _ you _ could be pleased with yourself for being able to deepthroat me.” 

 

Jughead pulls back to where he'd been before, pressing his tongue through his slit, making Archie moan so loud he seems to startle himself with it. He hollows out his cheeks, the barest hint of teeth have something dangerously close to a sob climbing up from his vocal cords. Archie leans forward, curling himself in towards Jughead, all of his body trying to focus on that one centre point. At the next slide down the full length of him, and teeth flashing again at the base, Archie bows back up to slam himself against the bricks, groan emanating through him like a roar. He can feel his own voice in his bones, and that can't possibly be right at this point, but he just can't care. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ -” he pants, and a pleased hum vibrates around him, causing another cry and a shallow buck of hips. Jughead's eyes widen, and he does it again. Archie can feel his toes curling tight in his chucks. “ _ Please,  _ Juggie,  _ please - “  _

 

Jughead can tell by the way his muscles are tensing that the redhead can't last much longer, can feel raw power starting to coil in his thighs and legs and the tugging on his hair is just this side of painful but he'll endure it, he'll endure anything if just to push the other boy off the edge. He pulls back to the tip, swirling his tongue to the broken gasps above him, and meets Archie’s hooded eyes. There's a press of fingers on the back of his neck, kneading the skin without pushing forward, but he waits until the whimper comes back.

 

“God,  _ please _ ,” Archie moans again, one last plea, and Jughead curls his lips in a smile before sliding back down to the base, teeth and vibration and the fingers in Archie’s hipbones barreling him off the cliff. His head is pressed back to the wall, shoulders bent off it in an arc, and he's never heard the sound he makes before as he comes, spilling into Jughead's mouth.

 

Jughead stays until Archie whines, hips jerking back with over-sensitivity, and glides himself back up the other boy’s chest, stretching out the cramp in his legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My,” he grins, swaying forward to nip once under his jaw, the mewl escaping Archie's throat while he's too spent to stop it. “You do  _ love _ to beg, don't you? And you do it so  _ very _ prettily.”

 

Archie really isn't sure how he's still standing right now. He's not even entirely back yet from wherever he just went, but Jughead's words, his  _ proximity  _ isn't helping over-sensitivity and the sudden urge to reverse them there against the wall. 

 

Surely to Milton's Lucifer, there was someone who made him decide that the fall was an acceptable decision, Jughead thinks, looking at the other boy who's still winded, still trying to catch his breath. Someone who he wanted to give a kingdom to. 

 

Jughead kisses his cheek. “You tasted just as predicted.”

 

“Didn't you already say that?” Archie raises an eyebrow, still somewhat out of breath.

 

“I did, but now I'm  _ completely _ sure, smartass. That just puts me in more of a mind to make you beg than before. I'll just have to bring you to your knees now, too.”

 

A shudder runs through Archie, eyelids low as he sweeps them over Jughead’s face. He runs the hand on the back of his neck around to the front, thumb pressing up under the other boy’s chin as he leans in to kiss him. There's a fervor in Jughead's actions, just as Archie predicted, hands trembling just slightly as they skim along his ribs. “You’re the one who wanted to corrupt me.” He murmurs, and feels the shiver along Jughead's skin.

 

“You’re the one who  _ wanted _ to be corrupted.” Jughead fires back, teeth against his lips.

 

Archie's smile is a dark thing. “So finish the job then, Juggie. Tell me what's next. Make me yours. Make me scream.” 

 

The noise from Jughead is softer than Archie expected, a surprise to them both, like the other boy didn't plan for any of this and is still trying to play catch up with how well it's gone. When Archie kisses him again, he makes the same noise before it turns into a growl, fingers hard on his skin and lips bruising with the force of him. They pull apart, breathless again, or still, and Jughead takes a deep breath, decision made.

 

“Okay. Still up for that ride?” There's a flash of heat in his eyes at the words and Archie has to fight the urge to close his eyes and bask in it. “You may want to tuck yourself away first. I'm not keen on sharing.”

 

Archie finds himself laughing and things feel nearly normal again. “You won't have to.” He'll have to end things with Ronnie but that's fine. He can only hope she'll be okay. That she won't hurt too much over it. 

 

“No?” There's a deepness to Jughead's eyes, a little boy softness to his voice, the question heavy, and Archie holds his stare as he shakes his head.

 

“No.” Archie looks down just long enough to tuck himself away, redo his jeans, then strokes Jughead's cheek. “I'll help you keep your kingdom in check, Serpent King. I already told you I was yours.”

 

Jughead's first actual smile since before FP’s arrest is nearly blinding. It's still tentative, slightly hard, but it's almost as if none of this had happened at all. “Come on.” He tugs at Archie's hand, dragging him in the direction of his motorcycle. 

 

The ride is fast, and Jughead looks genuinely happy on his bike as they speed off. Archie's wearing the one helmet, and he watches Jughead's expression go to pure joy as he allows gravity to play with them, pushing pulling leaning. Archie just tries to remember Jughead's tip about pulling his body  _ inward _ during the turns (and he'd forgotten how many turns there were in their fair town) so the weight balance wouldn't get messed up. Jughead takes them inches from the ground in those turns, where Archie just shuts his eyes, pulls himself inward and prays that the balance will be okay. 

 

Aside from the thoughts of death that cross Archie's mind each time Jughead takes them down a curve, he can see the allure. The purring metal beast feels like pure power between his thighs, and though Jughead takes them low for each curve, he's careful, doing the math, not taking them as low as he could. 

 

Before too long they're back at the trailer, Jughead gently prying Archie's hands from his waist. “Fun, right?” 

 

“How do you not…with those turns?” Archie's voice is weak, motioning vaguely to the ground. 

 

“And those aren't even the bad ones,” Jughead's downright cheerful now, “We'll build your tolerance. Tonight was a good start.”

 

Archie has nothing to say to that, but looks at the trailer. Jughead's cleaned it up, at least the outside of it since the night of the arrest. That makes him feel slightly better about things, but wishes he'd been here to help. 

 

Jughead pulls him in for a kiss, then for another, and then another as they go up inside, though there is some stumbling as they manage not to actually walk into any walls. 

 

Archie finds himself shoved up against the door once inside, Jughead nipping at his pulse hard, pulling out a whimper in response. He tucks hands under the other boy’s jacket, bolder now, and flattens his palms along his spine to press him closer, rolling his hips up against him. Jughead's next breath sounds like a groan, and he echoes the press of his hips forward again and again, a tremble running down his frame.

 

“So, I have a question.” Archie murmurs, turning his head to press his own series of teeth marks into Jughead's neck. 

 

“I might have an answer,” Jughead tone is that pleased thing again, and Archie remembers the smile he gave, that real one. It makes his words push out, his hands firm, trying to pull another of those out of the boy.

 

“How did you ride that motorcycle just now with a hard-on?” 

 

Jughead laughs, a surprised bubbling noise as he tucks his face under Archie’s jaw. “Practice. The bike turns me on, Arch. Had to learn quick.”

 

“More than me?”

 

That has Jughead pulling back, dark whorls over his face and eyes from the slats of light through the windows. “Well.  _ Someone _ took to the darkness faster than I'd thought,” he muses, smirk pulling at his lips, teeth a flash of bright in his face. And he looks pleased,  _ so pleased _ at the idea that Archie's now falling with him, holding his hand as they go into the abyss. 

 

“You didn't answer my question, Jug.” Archie's voice is soft, eyes going dark as he rolls his hips into the other boy’s, now flush against each other. Their eyes are locked on one another's, and Archie can see the flush starting to spread across Jughead's cheeks in the light coming from outside. 

 

Jughead smirks. “It's an even tie for now.” He's not going to give everything to this beautiful boy that's obediently walking with him into hell, not yet. That would take the fun out of it. 

 

“So what I'm hearing,” Archie's voice is low, eyes dark. This is easier than he thought it would be, letting go and just  _ feeling _ what comes next. Not wondering if it's what he  _ should _ be doing, just making up his own steps to a dance. “is that I should try harder?” He ends with a bruising grip on Jughead's hips, holding him in place while he drags their bodies together.

 

Jughead's laugh is strangled, surprised, pleased, aroused. He continues his work from earlier, treasure maps along the skin of Archie's throat. “Yes.” He says, grin pressed to that skin. He can tell without looking that Archie is grinning, too, a matching set of Cheshire teeth on them. “I have to say, I'm impressed. I wasn't sure how much work it would be to get you to sell your soul to me.”

 

_ It's freeing _ , Archie decides. There's a part of him that feels almost giddy, most probably brought about by the boy in front of him that he only let himself scarcely dream about. There's another part that's holding on with claws, irrationally concerned that he's going to wake up tomorrow with the same life, the same routine, the same boring sun that doesn't warm his skin the right way anymore.

 

“As long as I didn't disappoint,” because that would hurt. That's what would be the hardest out of all of this. 

 

Jughead's smile against his neck softens. “Had you said no,  _ that _ would've been disappointing.” His voice is softer now, honest, “Had you kept trying to convince me, trying to go halfway, that would have been worse.” 

 

Archie feels his heart contract, and it's almost painful. He doesn't want to feel that, not now. It doesn't belong here. He pushes it aside for now, tilting up Jughead's chin and kissing him. A silent affirmative that he's heard what the other boy said, but with pressure, intent. Jughead seems to get the message, who turns it harder. It drags a whimper out of the redhead, whose hands are back around Jughead's lapels, clenching white until he's pushing it off his shoulders. 

 

When they part for air, Archie’s smile is dark and his voice is soft. “I thought you were going to make me scream, Jug. I'm disappointed in how long that's taking.” 

 

Jughead just growls wordlessly, all but shoving the letterman off of Archie's shoulders, dragging him to the room that used to be his, once upon a time. Aside from a few things he took with him, it hasn't changed since the day he left. He pushes the redhead down on the bed, stalking over him, all liquid and flame. Archie just laughs, pulling him down for kisses, running nails down his back after he's yanked off his shirt, making the dark-haired boy arch. 

 

“And you say you're not a queen,” Jughead smirks, pulling off the beanie and putting it on the bedside table. “Christ, you're going to be a power bottom. I just know it.” 

 

“Still not going to wear a skirt for you, Juggie,” Archie parries back with a laugh, “Not my kink.” 

 

Jughead raises his eyebrows, settling himself on Archie's hips. “What is your kink then, Arch?” That purr is back, all midnight and silk and opium smoke. He cocks his head to the side after helping to remove his shirt. Studying him as if he's suddenly the most interesting thing he's ever seen. “I think I can guess.” 

 

“This should be interesting. By all means.”  

 

“Well…” Jughead draws a hand down Archie's chest, “For one thing, you seem to like it when I talk to you. You seem to like that a great deal.” 

 

Archie can't help the shiver that sweeps through his body and he hates himself a bit for it, for making it so obvious. His eyes are nearly all pupil, and his knuckles are white at Jughead's hips as he holds him there. 

 

Jughead looks pleased to be proven right so quickly. “Thought so.” There's genuine affection in his chuckle. “But I have the strangest feeling that that's not the only kink you have, Archie Andrews.” 

 

Archie's surging up to mouth at Jughead's neck, almost as if he wants to taste the words as the other boy speaks them, pull them into his mouth, his throat, his body. “Tell me,” he breathes, noting the roiling way Jughead's hips break along his in a wave.

 

Jughead swallows before continuing, tilting his head back to let the redhead move across his skin. “It's possible you might just be enamored by my mouth on the whole, teeth and tongue included.” He says softly, feels the dark laugh rise through Archie again. “But you keep asking me to tell you what's next, to lead you forward. So I can't help but wonder,” he trails blunt nails over Archie's shoulder blades, hears the hiccuping gasp against his neck, smiles to himself. “if you just want my guidance in the dark, or something more? Do you like me telling you what to do? Not just for hearing my voice, but for being  _ told _ ? Would you do it if I told you to lay still, to not touch me? Would you lie back and let me fuck myself on you?”

 

Archie's  _ shaking _ , his mouth on Jughead's throat halted to pull in haggard breaths, fingers quivering where they hold his hips. He's coming apart, skin shedding like the snake on Jughead's jacket, getting closer and closer to the core of him, baring close to his soul. Jughead continues, tugging Archie's face in front of him to stare into the inky depths of his eyes, watch him flick out a tongue to wet dry lips. “I know you liked it when I was on my knees for you, but I think you'd  _ love _ it if that were you, taking everything I chose to give you. Wouldn't you, Arch?” 

 

Archie's nodding almost frantically, body still except for that one movement, eyes watching the smile curl up Jughead’s lips. “Maybe you don't like control after all, after all you've got in your life. You've spent so, so long being this perfect image, haven't you? You're tired, and your shoulders must  _ ache _ from that burden. You've been having to carry that image, those thoughts and feelings with you for a long, long time. All you want is for me to take that from you, to let me hold the reins and show you what it's like not to have to  _ think _ . Just to  _ do _ . You'd receive instead of take. Yeah, it's another person telling you what to do, but it would be  _ different _ . You trust me not to hurt you, or punish you, or scold you. It'd be so simple to let go. You trust me enough to let me do  _ anything _ .”

 

His eyes are shut now, forehead leaned against Jughead's like he's in prayer, and the low hum from his bones might be a groan for all he knows, so tuned in is he to the quiet, lilting sound of the other boy’s voice.

 

_ Maybe this is why people are so reverent _ , Archie thinks, a fleeting idea.  _ This is what they feel like when something sacred or the divine is talking to them - that it would be both a sin and painful to ignore that voice. _

 

“I could do that.”

 

And his eyes are back open, meeting Jughead's calm smile, something that Archie can see in his gaze, a real thing. “You could?” His voice is a rasp, shaking like the rest of him, full of gravel and earth and dirt, everything in the mortal world.

 

“Yeah. If you let me, I can.” Soft and simple. No trumpets or drums or choirs, the glimpse into one soul and accepting it wholly without fanfare.

 

“And if I want it back?”

 

“All you have to do is ask, Arch. I won't deny you your free will.” Jughead's laugh is soft but his offer is sincere. He's watched Archie for years, watched him starting to be bent in two like Atlas holding up the world and cut in double from all of the stress and expectations from everyone in his life. Jughead's actually okay with taking that stress from him, more than okay with it if it means Archie's able to breathe. 

 

If he's able to start laughing again like they did when they were kids.

 

“Was it really that easy to guess?” Archie's smiling, a small thing, and Jughead laughs. It sounds so familiar, that particular sound, and he wants to hear more of it.

 

“Archie, last night you let me put my  _ hand  _ down your pants with barely any preamble. It wasn't super difficult to figure out.”

 

Archie just laughs softly, pulling him into a kiss. “You make it sound so terrible that way. And I wanted you to touch me.”

 

“I figured that out, as you can tell,” he says dryly, then pushes the other boy back down. “Do you still want me to touch you?” 

 

“You seem to be a smart guy, Jug. I trust you can figure that out.” 

 

Jughead holds himself above Archie, making the least amount of contact possible. “Now, now, that's not the way we get what we want, Arch. We literally just finished talking about this.” 

 

Archie reaches for Jughead's hips, trying to bring him back down but he dodges. 

 

“Jug…” It's a whine from the redhead, who tries reaching for him again to no avail. 

 

“I thought you wanted me to make you scream, Arch?” His smile is calm, placid as if he's talking about the weather. “I can't do that if you're making grabby hands at me.” 

 

Archie makes a sound of pure frustration, dropping his hands. Jughead looks satisfied, allowing himself to return to his perch on the redhead's hips. 

 

“You still want me to fuck you?” His voice is still bland, conversational, but now with that dark silk lining to it. Archie's still not touching him, trying to be  _ good,  _ obedient. His nod is a shaky thing, and Jughead watches the flicker through his eyes at the words. “I thought so. Take off your pants.” The order is simple, easy, and Archie’s got his belt undone, pants open, and is shimmying out of them in the span of a heartbeat, Jughead tugging them the rest of the way off his legs with his boxers. He rakes eyes over the redhead, lying still again with a shiver to his skin at Jughead's gaze, and grins as he leans down to kiss him as reward.

 

“Can...can I really not touch you?” Archie breathes against his lips, fingers clenched in the sheets by his hips and mouth sliding over his. Jughead laughs, a warm chuckle that seeps into Archie's bones, and leans away to meet his eyes.

 

“No, you can touch me. It was to get you to start listening to me.” He ducks down to nip at his lips, a quick, savage bite that jerks Archie's hips up. “Come on, Arch. You think I'd go through all this and  _ not _ want you to touch me?” The effect is immediate, Archie's hands flying back up to drag over the skin of his sides, his back, over his ribs and spine and hips, calluses and big hands spanning him in seconds. The sigh that leaks out of Archie's mouth is a release in and of itself, and Jughead groans above him. 

 

Time slows, the air growing warm around them. They are their own weather system, a collection of pressure and temperature changes with mood. 

 

The kisses are as slow as the time around them, all amber and lava flows. Jughead stretches out over Archie, letting the redhead hold him, hands no longer fluttering but instead mapping by touch.  His fingers reach Jughead's belt buckle. “Can I - “

 

“Take my pants off?” Jughead sits back up, amused. “I don't know, Arch,  _ can _ you?”

 

A frustrated sound from the other boy. “ _ May _ I take your pants off?”

 

“Now you're getting the hang of it,” Jughead laughs, allowing the redhead's fingers access to undo his belt, opening his jeans, and then leaving only long enough to shed them before being back where he was before, on Archie's hips. He's so hard he's  _ aching _ , but he can put off gratification a little longer, if just for the starstruck look on Archie's face. 

 

The smile that curves Jughead's lips feels like the old him, the true him, along with the blush on his cheeks. “You look like you've seen the face of the divine, Arch.” 

 

“Haven't I?” Archie's smile is shy, fingers against his cheek for the moment. 

 

“Smooth talker,” Jughead retorts. 

 

“Tell me something I don't know,” Archie’s laugh is hushed, as if he's afraid too much noise will break the spell.

 

“You know,” and the conversational tone is back but it's slightly softer, a gentle weather change in pressure, “every time I saw you touching a girl, I wished it was me.” The darkness is still there, but it's somehow muted with that honesty, a dark gray instead of pitch black. 

 

That catches Archie off guard. “Really?” The awe is back, along with surprise. 

 

“Every kiss. Every hug. Even the makeouts that I had the luck of walking in on, I wanted it to be me.” Jughead's eyes are more pupil than iris now, a hungry darkness there in his face. “It was hard to watch. It's why I couldn't stay. Part of why, at least.” 

 

“What about Betty?” Now Archie needs to know. 

 

“I love her. I do. But…” He shrugs, picking his words carefully. “She was my substitute for you.”

 

“Were you attracted to her?” Archie winces at the accusation in his tone, but it makes Jughead just laugh. He doesn't seem to be offended. 

 

“Yes. Of course I was. I told you…” Jughead leans down, lips on the shell of Archie's ear, “she tasted so very, very sweet. And the sounds she made were  _ wonderful. _ I made her scream on many an occasion. I finally had to stop going down on her at her house because she was so loud and we all know Alice Cooper's got magical bat ears that know and hear all.” 

 

Jughead sits back up, studying Archie's expression, his face. The redhead’s eyes are wide, and he's biting his lower lip. His cheeks are flushed, and his hands are shaking again. 

 

“Any more questions?” Jughead asks, eyebrow raised in humour as he traces idle designs along Archie’s chest, circling across his skin, around nipples and along his ribs absently. 

 

Archie pauses, running through his - frankly -  _ myriad _ of questions he has for the boy above him to narrow it down to the important ones. Part of him wants to know how long Jughead’s felt like that towards him, but that can be cast aside because it doesn't matter when they're  _ here _ , right now, like this. Eventually he decides that nothing else is really necessary, query-wise, and opts for a bit of honesty on his part. “No, but,” he swallows, flexes his hands on Jughead's hips to watch the shallow thrust forward automatically. “I...thought about you, too.”

 

“Well, I'd like to think so. We spent a hell of a lot of time together as ‘best buds’.” Jughead smirks, the rib without much malice.

 

“No, I mean  _ differently _ . Like ‘while I was jerking off’ differently.” Archie admits, lip pulled in again to worry at as Jughead sways down, grin large in his face before he tucks his head beside Archie's to drag more teeth marks over his neck, badges of ownership and pride.

 

“ _ Really _ now? Well, that  _ is _ interesting.”

 

“I just wasn't sure it was how I was...I dunno, supposed to feel. Like you wouldn't either, so it wasn't worth the pain of pursuing a dead end.” His words are breathy in their admission, body rocking gently to the pulling at his skin.

 

“There you go again with that. ‘Supposed to’.”

 

“I was afraid,” Archie says after a moment, looking at Jughead, who stops a moment to listen. “I couldn't risk it. I couldn't lose you and I nearly did anyway.” He's still flushed but now it's a flush of shame. 

 

“Less about 'supposed to’ and more about what's been poured into your head since you were a kid, huh?” Jughead's tone is thoughtful, strangely gentle. 

 

“Aren't they the same thing, at this point?” Archie's voice sounds tired, suddenly, a weariness to it that Jughead can almost see pressing on his windpipe.

 

“You wouldn't be wrong. In your case, at least. For me…” He shrugs. “Well, there's nothing quite like the blessing and the curse of society’s low expectations. No one would be surprised if I wasn't straight at this point, like they’re not surprised that I took up my father's mantle. Most of them wouldn't even care, I can't be farther from their radar. But you?” Jughead's smile is suddenly vicious, but not toward the other boy. “That such a bright boy could go so dark? Fall so far? That would, and will,  _ terrify _ them.” 

 

“Because it's what they fear?”

 

“Because it's what they've been  _ taught _ to fear. Nonconformity, non-heteronormativity. That's enough to stop their little hearts cold.” He looks at Archie, gaze openly affectionate now. “You're brave, Archie Andrews. And it will serve you well.” 

 

“I am?” Archie looks confused, adorably so. 

 

“Yes. You are. You're following me down into the dark, aren't you? You're with me on the edge of every map that's marked  _ here there be monsters _ and going forward anyway.” Jughead cocks his head to the side with a small smile. “How is that  _ not _ bravery?” 

 

Archie shrugs, fighting not to avert his eyes, to blush with self-consciousness, to deny the claim. He doesn't feel it, not really, not right now. It seemed natural to fall, that freedom he still feels. But Jughead’s looking at him with some kind of affectionate admiration, so Archie leans up to press his lips to his, to tell him with actions that he heard what he said. 

 

“However,” Jughead speaks again after a few moments of more kissing, soft sighs and gentler movement, but his tone is that silky purr again, the one that seems to seep into Archie's tailbone. “the words they’ll try to hit you with won't do much good, anyway. They'll all be true. How the brightest star in all of Riverdale likes to be fucked by the murderer's son.”

 

Archie shudders again, dragging a hand up along Jughead's back to press him in, down, to feel for dark wings across his shoulder blades. “I wouldn't know yet, would I?” He teases, watches the narrowing of eyes. “We seem to be taking our sweet time getting to it.”

 

A smirk unfurls across Jughead's lips. “No, I think that'll be true, whenever I do get to it,” he murmurs almost lazily. “I think they'll be shocked to learn how much you like being on your knees, or on your back for me. How you  _ beg _ for it.” There's an unassailable confidence in his words, as if it's a natural law: the sky is blue, water is wet. “They'll be shocked to know that you'll let me have my way with you  _ whenever  _ and  _ however  _ I damn well please. And when I do let you get on your knees for me? They'll positively lose their minds over the idea that Archie Andrews, all-American dream boy,  _ loves _ sucking my cock.” 

 

Archie's eyes widen and he hates himself a bit for his obvious reaction. 

 

“Better yet,” Jughead's murmur is sly now, smirk turning into a Cheshire grin, “More offensively yet, imagine all the sobs and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth when they find out how much you love it when I eat you out.” 

 

“You'll do that?” The redhead could kick himself for showing his hand there, but the curiosity is too much to bear. 

 

“For hours, if you'll let me.” Jughead's reply is bored but his eyes are gleaming with promise. 

 

“ _ Hours?”  _ Archie's words are strangled and lost deep in his throat. 

 

“Or until you can't take me edging you anymore, yeah.” A fluid shrug. The dark-haired boy looks pleased with himself.

 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” Archie raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Can you blame me? Don't you have any idea how you look right now?” Jughead's reply is half-smug, half-exasperated. “All flushed…” He kisses blushing cheeks, “and hard…” One hand glides down between Archie's thighs, brushing against him lightly, “and all for me?” 

 

“You sound like you're about to eat me,” Archie gasps at the feeling of those long long fingers idly tracing him, dancing up and down. 

 

“No, I'm going to  _ fuck  _ you. Keep up here, Arch.” Jughead's grin is the only thing Archie can see, and he raises his hips up as that hand trails across him, going lower on each take. It's gone suddenly, and Jughead's arching across him to open the drawer of his nightstand. “I'm pretty sure I still have...oh, good.” He pulls back over him, bottle of lube in one hand, and watches the erratic beating of Archie’s heart flash across his face with his quick breaths. “Still ok?” The question is a quiet hush.

 

Archie's response is a strangled moan for a moment as his thoughts run ahead of him, how those fingers would _ feel _ , how much better it will be when - “Yes,” he whispers, bucking his hips up as Jughead slides down a few inches for space with another smirk. Then, because he knows the effects now: “ _ please _ .” 

 

That makes Jughead pause, body trembling before he squeezes some of the contents out on his fingers with a shaking hand and practically throws the bottle behind him, moving that hand back onto Archie’s hip to ground himself, or the other boy, or both. He trails his other hand down, down, and presses a finger against Archie, eyes on his face. As he slips in, the redhead's neck is pulled tight, head back against the pillows with a gasping moan. “ _ Jug _ -”

 

Jughead drops kisses along his abdomen, sliding in further and curling his finger. Archie's hand moves up to his shoulder, clenching with each curl, hips flexing on beat. “Fuck,” he groans, canting his hips down to take the rest of that first finger in with a whimper. “More.” He breathes, feels the grin in the teeth on his hipbone. 

 

“Didn't I already call you eager?” 

 

“Yeah, you -  _ ahh _ ,” Archie bows up at the press of another digit, the slide in, the curl. “ _ Shit _ , Jug,”

 

“I used to do this to myself in the shower, you know.” Jughead’s voice is rough, shaky despite the calm tone he’s attempting. “Do you know who I thought about?”

 

That pulls a whine out of Archie, an earthquake through his body as his hips roll with the stretching. “If I... _ haah _ , if I guess right, do I get a prize?” He pants. Jughead's laugh is low, strangled, and the next kiss to Archie's stomach is rougher.

 

“Yes,” is the only response he gets, a testament to the thin band of control Jughead has left.

 

“Me?” 

 

The fingers curl up and out, pressing against Archie's prostate with practiced swiftness, and Archie bows almost fully off the bed, his hand a bruising grip on Jughead's shoulder and his vision white, groaning from somewhere deep inside himself. “ _ Jesus _ , Juggie, f- _ uck _ -”

 

Jughead groans, hips rutting forward sharply with the sight, the sounds, the promise. A third finger joins the other two, and Archie's shaking like a leaf. 

 

“It's enough.  _ Please _ , Juggie.” His voice sounds like it's about to break. And Jughead wants to see him break, wants that more than anything. He miraculously finds the bottle again, slicking himself up with shaking fingers before pressing in. He feels Archie gasp against his lips, feels him bending off the bed as he slips all the way in. 

 

The dark-haired boy has to wait a second, remembering to breathe because  _ god _ , the redhead is so tight, and this will be over far too soon if he doesn't. “ _ Christ _ ,” he breathes, carefully counting his breaths through the shaking. And he doesn't want to hurt him, can see the clenching muscles past the sweat and shakes and arousal, but Archie opens his eyes to see him and it's a  _ fire _ in there, fathomless burning pits Jughead thinks might burn him alive if he lets them. 

 

And maybe he'd be okay with that fire devouring them both. 

 

So maybe the pain is okay on both counts.

 

Neither boy can remember who initiates movement, they're too lost in open-mouthed kisses, soft gasps and rolling hips. There's the fullness, the stretching, the building pressure and brief, almost  _ aching _ emptiness that makes Archie feel like a valve being tightened inside him, and he groans softly against Jughead's lips. The drag and the burn,  _ oh _ , the burn and Archie thinks he may like that part the most as his hips move to meet Jughead's on each thrust. There's a sweetness to that pain, and it makes him smile, reach up for the other boy and pull him closer, deeper. 

 

“ _ Please _ , Jug.”  _ Harder, deeper, more, god, more please don't stop don't ever fucking stop _ are all the things Archie tries to say but only that one word manages to come out. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ , Arch,” Jughead's laugh is shaky, but pleased against the other boy’s throat, running a lax mouth down its center before kissing him again, “you're an even bigger slut for it than I thought you'd be.” 

 

That makes Archie bark a laugh through a loud moan. “More than you'd hoped?” 

 

There's a shudder through Jughead at the pull of hips, the clench, and his next words are hoarse. “Wildest dreams can't compare.”

 

Archie's grin at his reaction grows wider when he locks his ankles behind Jughead's back, forcing him deeper yet, wrenching a swear out of him. “Give me more, then,” he murmurs against Jughead's parted lips, “if I'm such a slut for it, fill me with your cock. And don't  _ ever _ stop.” His voice is soft, hoarse, and now dark, so dark because of the boy above him. 

 

Hearing those words (his words, his darkness) from Archie's lips is surreal, all of this is, but Jughead loves it, loves how this golden boy is slowly being undone and tarnished under his hands. Loves how he's embraced his fall, his baser self. His laughter is hoarse, shaky. 

 

“And here I was trying not to hurt you. But you forgot the magic word, Arch. How am I supposed to give you what you want if you can't even ask me correctly?” The silk has returned to Jughead's voice but it's ripped silk, wet and more fragile than previously thought. He slows his hips, their movement, going more shallow, making the redhead whine.

 

“Jug - “

 

Even though he's shaking and his voice is like sandpaper and he  _ needs _ , god he  _ needs _ , Jughead just smiles. “What do we say?”

 

“ _ Please,  _ Juggie - “

 

“And?” A sharp, hard thrust makes Archie keen, hands trying to pull Jughead back  _ down _ , in deeper.

 

“ _ Fuck,  _ please, just fill me with your c-cock - “ He can't finish his sentence because his hips snap with movement, and he can feel Jughead's grin as he slots his mouth against the redhead's. Archie knows there's going to be bruising but he doesn't care. He can't care. He needs this too much. 

 

“And?” Jughead murmurs against his neck, sucking more bruises there, more badges of pride and ownership. 

 

“ _ Don't stop,”  _ Archie gasps, getting close. Jughead’s groan shakes them both, and his next thrust is angled, sliding over that spot inside Archie and stilling as the other boy arcs up from his shoulder blades with a wild cry, fingers scrabbling against Jughead's back and pressing his own badges in. “ _ Fuck _ , more, again,  _ more _ ,” Archie’s babbling now, hips off rhythm for a beat as he starts to clench around Jughead. “Make me  _ scream _ ,” he keens, and Jughead fuses their mouths together with another curse. 

 

It's only two more thrusts before he does, Archie's eyes squeezed shut tight, the noise closer to some sort of primal roar as he bends up. He shakes with it all over, coming apart and pulling Jughead in, down, over, until the other boy is coming too, forehead pressed to Archie's and hips stitching themselves together. “ _ Fuck _ ,” It sounds almost like a whimper but he's too far gone to care, groaning against Archie's skin.

 

When Archie resurfaces, Jughead's lying against his chest, blinking, mouth open in wonder in that other place between orgasm and afterglow. 

 

The redhead looks down at him and then laughs, knowing he'll ache tomorrow. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, and Jughead stirs, a tired smile curving his lips. 

 

“Yeah.” It's about all Jughead can say, his brain still getting back online. He rolls over, blanketing himself over Archie, watching him as pieces of him come back from that other place. “Is that the way it always is?” He asks a moment later, voice soft. 

 

Archie stares at him, heart skipping several beats in a row only to come back with a thump. “Jug, was...was that your first time?” 

 

“Yeah. It was.” Jughead's smile is shy, the darkness gone for the moment, only now slowly starting to filter back in. As if it had evaporated or had been vented through the sex. 

 

Archie looks absolutely dumbstruck. “I thought you and Betty - “

 

“We never went past going down on each other.” A light blush haunts the dark-haired boy’s cheeks. “At that point I just…” He shrugs, “I don't know. Everything started getting crazy and I just didn't want to go that far with her. I had what I wanted at that point, I guess, from her. I saw no point in pushing things. And there was you. You and Ronnie had just made things official. With that, and the arrest…”

 

The night everything changed. The night he'd accepted his fate as the new Serpent King, the night Betty had seen him putting on the jacket for the first time. The day Cheryl had tried to drown herself, a few days after homecoming and his father being arrested. 

 

“Jesus, Jug.” Archie's voice is soft, his heart aching. There's so much he wants to say, and do. All he can do is kiss the other boy, letting his body do what his words can't. “I'm honored, then. To be your first. Cliche as that sounds.” 

 

“I'm glad it was you, too,” Jughead finally murmurs after a long moment. “I wanted it to be you. After you and Ronnie got together and everything just kind of exploded around us…” He shrugs, “being around you was too much to handle. All of you.” 

 

It made sense, and Archie can't deny that. He tries to imagine if it were him instead of Jughead - would he stay, if it were him? After turning the idea over in his head a few moments, he decides, no. He probably would've left even sooner, because he feels he's not as brave as the boy on top of him. 

 

He can't seem to settle on a sentence, on words to say that'll explain the depth of all he feels, so he holds Jughead’s stare for a moment, hoping he can decipher the pools of it all in his eyes. Jughead smiles, a small thing, real enough to put the easy grace back in his face, a glimmer of light in his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Archie says finally, “for choosing me. Not just...you know, not just for this. For everything, for all of it. For wanting me just...just because it's me.” He hopes that makes sense, an expression of gratitude for this freedom, this affection, this  _ more _ .

 

Jughead's smile grows with understanding, voice soft. “No strings attached.” He clarifies, and Archie nods. “You stay and I'll stay, Arch. That's it.” 

 

Archie finds himself grinning, tugging the other boy in for another kiss, both groaning softly at the pull in their spent and bruised muscles, bodies rebelling against any movement. 

 

They fall asleep like that, tangled together, for a few hours before Archie wakes up, Jughead shaking him gently. “Gotta get home before sun-up or that’ll be the end of our little ‘midnight rendezvous’ in the future.”

 

Archie’s eyes are bleary, body protesting still, and he groans as he tries to tug Jughead in closer. “Five more minutes,” he mutters.

 

“ _ Archie _ ,” Jughead’s tone is lightly chastising, but there's a thread of laughter through it, day peeking around the night, a sun coming from behind a wall of dark, dark clouds. 

 

Archie's eyes flutter open with great reluctance. “Don't make me go,” he groans, rolling into Jughead. 

 

“Trust me, I'm not thrilled with the idea either, especially when I'd rather keep you here to satisfy my every whim.” His voice is darker, more ragged this time of day, the roughness of sleep and heavy promise. He contrasts his ideas, hand still gently trying to prod Archie off the bed while he can't help but tuck his nose into the redhead’s neck, still wanting to bask in whatever glow remains.

 

Archie's smiling now, eyes closed again as he throws an arm over Jughead's middle, warm skin on warm skin. “Yeah? And what would those whims be?”

 

Jughead snorts a laugh, untucking himself finally and pushing Archie with a bit more force. “Nice try.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

“Seriously, if you sneak back after the township’s up, you'll be under watch. If you want to find out my whims, you’ll have to leave.” He rolls his eyes at Archie's noise of protest. “ _ Temporarily _ . Come on, up.”

 

“Fine, you're right.” It's all but a huff from the other boy, which melts into another groan at muscles used a little too well. Jughead helps him find his clothes, and puts his own back on. There's a heaviness to their movements, but as he puts his shoes back on, Archie reminds himself that this is not the end. 

 

Not even close. 

 

They speed back toward Archie's side of the city on the bike, having to stop a few streets away from his house so Fred doesn't wake up to the thunder of the engine. 

 

“I want to see you later,” Archie murmurs against the dark-haired boy’s lips, not wanting to leave, not wanting to return, not wanting this dream to end, still afraid of the sun.

 

“Then I'll summon you,” Jughead’s smile is brief before pulling another kiss from the other boy, smoothing his hands down Archie's chest. 

 

“Promise?” They're forehead to forehead now.

 

“Yes, Arch, I will. Now go and get some sleep. I plan to exhaust you again tonight.” 

 

“And make me even more sore?” Archie seems thrilled at that prospect and it makes Jughead laugh.

 

“Until you can't walk,” Jughead promises, letting the other boy go with a final, chaste kiss. “Go home, Arch.”

 

By the time Archie gets back up into his room, the sky is starting to lighten just the slightest bit. He's sore and tired but he feels  _ alive _ , awake, like he'd been asleep in a glass coffin. 

 

It didn't feel real.

 

It felt too real. 

 

It was both and neither and he just wanted  _ more. _

 

He manages to stumble into the shower, letting heat take care of the ache that’s starting to permeate every muscle. His hips hurt the most, but it's a good hurt. When he looks down to take stock of things, he sees bruises have started to develop like film there on his hips, blacker than night and twice as deep. 

 

By the time he finishes up the sun is up and out, and his eyes widen when he sees his neck and collarbones in the mirror. As if he were wearing a necklace of black roses, bruises are strung together around his neck, scattering like petals around his collarbones and shoulders. 

 

It makes him grin wide. Not a dream. Dreams don’t leave  _ proof. _

 

And then realizes that the bruises aren't really easily hideable. Betty and Veronica will ask too many questions (and Veronica will figure out that he hasn't been a good boy, to boot). 

  
He pours himself into bed with a happy sigh, and is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.


	2. It was the height I threw the weight the shell was crushing you

If he dreams, he doesn't remember. 

 

Fred comes in later that morning, and upon seeing him buried deeply in the covers, and hearing a voice hoarse from the night before he decides to take pity on him, allowing Archie to stay home.

 

When he wakes next, the glorious silence of suburbia on a weekday afternoon greets him. There are birds and there's sun and it’s the kind of silence that feels crystal clear. Archie allows himself to lie there, to wake up slowly. The night before (the last few nights, actually) still feel like some kind of fever dream, and he looks down at one aching hip and sees the bruises once more. It still feels so hard to believe, somehow. 

 

And then that rumination leads to immersion in memory, which leads to Archie pawing through his night stand to find lube, too curious and too aching to be shy. The first finger he presses against himself is cold, and it feels like it takes too long to get inside. He breathes deeply, trying to relax, and he's almost knuckle-deep when that burn is a little too much, the soreness too much to bear. His hiss is disappointed as well as pained. 

 

“Looks like  _ that  _ isn't happening today,” he murmurs to himself out loud, instead deciding to check his phone. Nothing from Jughead. He falls back against the pillows and closes his eyes. 

 

He's nearly asleep again when he hears a soft notification  _ ding _ from his phone. He scrambles to find it, half-asleep and groggy, but when he sees the text, he grins wide. 

 

_ White Wyrm. 2pm. _

 

_ Lucky for you, I didn't go to classes today. _ He pens back, and waits for the response.

 

_ Oh? Being a bad boy, are we? _

 

_ I thought I'd give it a try. It seemed easier than trying to hide these, anyway. _ He cranes his neck back and snaps a photo of the coloured marks, the misshapen land-masses along his throat and adjacent skin like continents on a chart, sending it off as well. It's a full minute before the next reply comes in, but Archie feels a zip down his spine as it does.

 

_ Make that 1:30.  _

 

_ Now who's eager?  _

 

_ Watch it, Arch. Or I might just not touch you at all today. _

 

That makes Archie laugh.  _ If you're  _ that  _ eager, I think I'll take my chances.  _

 

_ You really wanna play this game? _

 

As Archie’s fingers slide along the screen to reply, a photo pops up from Jughead. It takes no time at all for Archie to figure out what he's seeing, a hand pulling down the waist of jeans to show off multi-coloured bruising in the slim dents of a hipbone. 

 

_ Whatever you can do, I can do better.  _ It takes some careful angling but he manages to take a few pictures of his own bruised hips, all dahlia and violet petals blooming across the bone and sends them off. 

 

_ Trying to one up me even now. Astounding. _

 

_ Does that mean you don't want to hear about how I just tried to touch myself and only had to stop because of the ache? _

 

Twenty second pause this time, and his phone dings again.

 

_ 1pm. It's 12:45, Arch. Better start running. _

 

_ Good thing I already showered then.  _

 

_ Save it. Tell me when you get here. Tardiness will have consequences.  _

 

And just thinking of what those consequences may be makes him shudder, but he decides to get out of bed anyway, jumping into jeans, scrambling for a shirt, finding his wallet, keys, almost forgetting his phone. 

 

Looks at the letterman on his desk chair, and decides to go without it for today. Grabs a dark hoodie instead and starts to jog. 

 

Jughead's sitting on the steps of the Wyrm with Hot Dog, a battered copy of  _ The Divine Comedy _ in his hands. He's made a valiant effort to concentrate (especially now that he's in the  _ Inferno _ part of the trilogy) but he can't help looking up every so many seconds, heart beating fast and uneven, a staccato tune behind his ribs. 

 

Hot Dog grins in that lopsided way dogs have, barking once and Jughead looks up, seeing Archie in the distance. He leans back on the steps with his Cheshire grin, marking his place, checks his phone for the time. 

 

“1:02, Arch. You're late,” he calls, petting Hot Dog, making his tail thump against the steps in joy. 

 

Archie stops at the bottom of the stairs to catch his breath. “I would've been on time but one of the traffic lights was out in town, so they were doing everything manually. Traffic cops and the whole nine.” 

 

Jughead grins. “I can't blame you for an act of god, then, I suppose. Though I will be checking your story.” 

 

Archie pulls out his phone, showing him a picture of the cops. “I had time to get proof ready,” he shrugs, and Jughead inspects the photo before nodding once, satisfied. 

 

“Going out of your way to please me, hm?” Jughead looks quite pleased, turning to Hot Dog and sending him off with a nudge to his flank. The white beast whines. Jughead sighs heavily. “Come on, Hot Dog. You know where to go.” Another gentle nudge sends the dog running into the bar. 

 

“He really likes you.”

 

“Yeah, well, he likes that I feed him and hang out with him more than the others. I guess.” 

 

Archie sits next to him on the stairs a moment, seeing the copy of Dante. “I see we're rereading all of the classics of the free will library.” 

 

“A king has to know when to keep himself occupied without his queen,” Jughead grins with a soft laugh.

 

“Prince, not queen. And you mean other than texting me pictures of my handiwork?” 

 

Jughead gets close. “ _ For he doth make my veins and pulses tremble, _ ” he quotes up against the other boy's lips before kissing him. Archie shivers and kisses him back, feeling Jughead's palms flat on his chest, fingers curling in his hoodie. He notices the lack of the letterman when he pulls away for air. 

 

“My, you  _ are _ taking this seriously.” Dark fire snaps in Jughead's eyes. 

  
“You seem surprised,” Archie laughs softly.

“Only in the best way, I assure you.” The dark-haired boy reaches out and touches one large bruise. “These seem larger than in the pictures.” 

 

“You should remember their size, you're the one who made them.” Archie grins, pulls back to watch the hunger seep into the other boy’s eyes. He notices the colour underneath, too, and runs a thumb gently over the hollow under one eye. “ _ These _ seem larger than yesterday. Did you not sleep after I left?”

 

“No, not really,” Jughead admits with a shrug, “not after you left.” There's an honesty in that that Archie hears, pressing their lips together again as he sweeps that same hand over Jughead's cheek and around the back of his head.

 

“I'm here now.”

 

“And so, what, I should take a nap?” Jughead snorts, smirking faintly.

 

“I could probably find a way to tire you out for one. Wasn't sure if you'd be interested, though.” Archie leans back on the steps, stretching, the edge of one of his bruises peeking up above his belt as his shirt rides up. 

 

Jughead laughs softly. “You really  _ are _ a slut for it, Andrews, Jesus.”

 

Even with a slightly gentler laugh to gild Jughead's words, Archie still finds a shiver going down his spine, curling and twisting, at hearing them.

 

“And you seem to love me reminding you that you're a slut for it, too,” The dark-haired boy murmurs, midnight in broad daylight, watching how Archie's expression has changed, his eyelids heavier, his gaze more molten. “Is that what you were thinking about when you were trying to touch yourself earlier?” 

 

Archie's heart is suddenly beating far too fast. “Yes,” he replies softly, “up until the ache was too much and I had to stop.” 

 

“How far did you get before you stopped?” The hunger, a raging forest fire in Jughead's eyes is back. 

 

“Not very far,” Archie wants to laugh but can't, finds himself pinned to the spot by that gaze. Jughead just smiles, leaning in, brushing the shell of Archie's ear with his lips, nosing along his cheek. 

 

“How far, Arch?”

 

“One finger. To the knuckle.” He swallows and it's audible. 

 

“Did you like the ache?”

 

That’s actually something that Archie hadn't really thought of. “I did. It just was too much, after last night. Maybe too soon, I guess.” His words are soft, and he hums as Jughead flattens his palm on Archie's abdomen above his shirt, a gentle pressure against him.

 

Jughead's noise is speculative, his mouth trailing lightly, so lightly, over those marks along Archie's neck. The bruises are sensitive, fresh and new and tender, and even the feather touch of Jughead's lips is enough to have Archie tilting his head back and groaning softly in the back of his throat. He continues re-tracing his work, tongue flicking out at the one just under Archie's adam’s apple, teeth grazing at one on his shoulder. Archie's shudder is immediate, hand shooting out to grip at Jughead's waist as the other boy grins.

 

“Too much?”

 

“No. Besides, who am I to deny you what is clearly a kink of your own? Seeing me with all your marks isn't just affecting me, is it?” Archie's voice is bold, grinning himself as he tracks a shudder down Jughead's back. 

 

“My, we're mouthy today,” Jughead replies with a small smile. “I don't think even  _ I  _ fell as fast as you have, Arch.”

 

Archie just pulls him closer, “Am I wrong?” 

 

“You're not,” Jughead looks at him, “Not in the least. I love seeing you with my marks. I love that you really didn't cover them up, or didn't seem to want to.” Their eyes meet, fire spreading. “It's like you're showing them all that you're  _ mine _ .” 

 

Archie watches his pupils get bigger with that final word hissed. “That also seems to be another kink of yours, Juggie. Me being yours.”

 

“Not quite,” the other boy corrects him, “You knowing that you're mine. Everyone else knowing that you're mine. Specifically those two.” 

 

“Ah. Only those two. Got it.” 

 

“Besides,” his hand travels to Archie's hip, running a thumb where one bruise hides under his jeans, pressing against it. The feeling of denim scratching tender flesh gets another shiver from the redhead. “You wear them so very well, Archie. How could I possibly resist the sight of you showing them off?” 

 

There isn't an answer for that, just another soft sound as Jughead gives him one last kiss before standing. “Come on. I'll show you around.” 

 

He leads the other boy into the bar by the hand, which is quiet at this hour. More lights are on than they usually would be, a few drunks hovering on barstools at the bar. Serpents are scattered here and there, cleaning, sweeping the floor, polishing freshly cleaned glasses. 

 

It's a surprise to Archie, and it shows on his face. 

 

Jughead just grins. “You really thought we were just a bunch of ingrates, huh?” 

 

Archie shakes his head. “I didn't know what to expect, honestly.”

 

“We own this bar outright. Have for a long time, the way I hear it. So we take care of it. Clean it, stock it, all of that. It keeps the rest in line, I guess,” he finishes with a shrug. 

 

“No one knows about this.” Archie's tone is one of wonder, as if finding out the world is round and not flat. Dimensions and depth appear where there were none before. 

 

“Depends on who you ask. The Serpents that are recovering addicts don't get to be here, I have them do errands and stuff. I figure it's hard enough being sober as it is. I don't want to make that harder. They only have to come here when we have meetings.” 

 

That's the Jughead Archie grew up with. It makes him smile. “New policy?”

 

“Strangely enough, I think my father was the one who decided to do things this way. Ironic, right? But I enforce those rules now way more than he did.” He pauses, checking a corner of one of the pool tables, where the green fabric is starting to come loose. Jughead waves over another Serpent, pointing it out, delegating orders to fix it before continuing.

 

“I help out too. I'm not sure my father did, at least, not consistently. But I want them to have something that they can be proud of now, after all of that shit with Cheryl's dad went down. Something they can take care of. It's important. And the ones who fall off the wagon? They're out until they get clean.” 

 

“A change for the better?” He follows Jughead into the hallway. 

 

“Trying to, at the very least. I know not everyone will want to reform, or be better. I just…” Jughead's eyes look into a past that Archie can't see. “There's been so much pain caused here. I think Milton's Lucifer understood that, even if in his case it was his fault. He wanted to build a kingdom for those who fell with him. He wanted to protect them that way, I guess. So even if they did bad things, they still had at least a glimmer of a memory of what they used to be, a reminder that things are not always black and white.” 

 

“Shades of gray?” Archie's voice is soft as they peek into the small kitchen, where yet more Serpents are both cooking and cleaning. 

 

“A spectrum of it.” They're moving again, past storerooms, rooms full of all kinds of strange old discarded decor, until they come to a clean, bright room that's unlike all the others.  There are couches and chairs, a long table and a map of Riverdale on the wall. The window is open, letting in fresh air. “Anyway, that's the tour.” Jughead leans against the table and crosses his arms, meeting Archie's gaze with a quick, wolfish grin. The hard edges seem to have disappeared for now from his face, his eyes, his voice, and Archie recognizes more and more of the boy in front of him with a squeezing of his heart. “Welcome to the Southside Serpents, Archie Andrews.”

 

“As in ‘inducted into’?” Archie sits on the arm of the couch, stretching out his legs in front of him, and raises an eyebrow at Jughead. “Does that mean I get a leather jacket?”

 

Jughead laughs at that, running a thumb over his bottom lip. “Giving up the letterman just like that, huh? Trade in the blue and gold for black?”

 

“Black and blue.” Archie murmurs, letting that soft heat back into his voice, moving his head to flash the bruises.

 

“Interesting.” Jughead matches his stare, cocks his head to the side to assess the creature in front of him in this new light. Like letting a shaft of sun through the curtains and watching how it falls across the floor, how different the place around it looks just for it being there. “We'd have to conduct an entrance interview. You know, go by the book so you're not just listed as ‘Jughead's Fuckbuddy’.”

 

“Fuckbuddy, huh?”

 

“I don't think we can technically be dating until we're both single, Arch.”

 

“Polyamory exists.”

 

“Remember that bit about me being loath to share you?” Jughead’s next smile is darker, more personal, and Archie laughs as his blood heats.

“I do, but teasing you seems to be much more fun.”

“Wicked Archie. You learn fast.” 

“I wouldn't be a golden boy if I didn't, right?”

“I thought I wasn't allowed to call you that?”

“Not anymore, no,” Archie chuckles, shaking his head, “but I meant more in terms of a stereotype.” He gets up from his place on the couch arm, slinking over to Jughead by the table. “Golden boys have to learn fast, don't they? Otherwise they drown.”

“You're not wrong.” He's watched Archie enough through the years to know that. It's sink or swim, hitting the ground running. “But I wonder…” It's a soft purr from him as he reaches out to put his hands on Archie's waist, velvet in that voice now, “what else you've picked up in our short time together?” The question is breathed against his lips, but they don't meet. Jughead just looks at him, eyes dark, awaiting his answer with the smallest smile. 

Archie's heart is kicked into high gear, pushing against his ribs to get free. “Did you want me to show you?” A hand finds its way up his shirt, counting ribs. 

Jughead's laugh is nothing but mirth. “Oh, I love being right. You're dying to get on your knees for me, aren't you?”

Archie fits their hips together. “I thought you liked me being eager, Juggie.” 

“I do. So go ahead, Archie Andrews,” Jughead murmurs against his neck, against one of the bruises, “Show me what you've learned so far.” 

Archie pulls him in for a quick kiss before stepping back, about to get to work when he realizes the door to the room is open. He looks at it, and then back at Jughead. 

“Go ahead. Close it. Unless another one of your kinks is exhibitionism…” 

“No, I don't really want to share you, either.”

Archie's never hurried to finish a task so quickly. So much so that Jughead laughs, slightly amazed. But the laughter stops when he watches Archie kneel, looking up at him with those big dark eyes, running his hands down his thighs. 

It takes his breath away, just a little bit, until he remembers he has to keep breathing. Callused hands make quick work of his belt, pulling him out, getting jeans and boxers down to his knees. 

Archie feels nervousness starting to creep in, unwelcome and cold. He pushes it away with hands lightly exploring, tracing muscle and bone, finally shoving it out of his mind as he takes a long, curious lick up Jughead's shaft. 

He's rewarded with a strangled whimper from the boy above him, fingers tangled in his hair. That sound is so  _ wonderful _ and he wants  _ more _ . He closes his lips around the head, swirling around in a quick and vicious twist that makes Jughead's knees weak, a keen rising in his throat. Archie looks up at him, finds his head tilted back, biting his lip hard, a flush painting his cheeks. 

All Archie can think about is how  _ good _ Jughead tastes, how he wants to make him scream, how he just wants  _ more _ . More of all of it. It's that over-zealousness that makes him bob down and hollow out his cheeks, feeling the fingers tighten in the strands of his hair as Jughead curses. “ _ Shit _ , Arch-”

“Too much?” There's a laugh to Archie's tone as he pulls off him to reply, hands curling around the other boy’s hips into the exact same fit as last night, light against the bruises that correspond to each finger. 

Jughead just glares at him. “Knew you were going to be a power bottom.” His reply is almost a mutter but it turns into a moan as the other boy laughs against him, going back to work. 

“Did you know I'd have a smart mouth, too?” Archie hums, tongue out to flick against the head of him as he slides down his length.

“I mean, you've always been a smartass,” Jughead hisses the last syllable as those cheeks hollow again, Archie flattening his tongue against the underside of his cock this time, dragging it back up as he moves.

Archie takes his time, marvelling in how each tick of suction changes Jughead’s breathing, experimenting between sudden movements and quick presses against his hipbones, and slow, drawn out glides along him with a swirling tongue to pull each whimper and groan from the boy above him. He loves it, realizing as he shifts and moves one hand down to press against himself through his jeans. He considers telling Jughead he was right when the other boy tugs on his hair and Archie looks up at him.

“Now, now, Arch.” There's a pant to Jughead's voice, a swallow as Archie flicks his tongue again. “Shouldn't you focus on one thing at a time?” 

A warmth trickles along Archie's spine at the words, and he tests the waters again by pressing the heel of his hand against his own cock. The next tug to his hair is sharper, and he groans around Jughead. 

“What did I just say, Archie?” That ragged silk tone returns through his rough breathing. “That wasn't a request.” 

Archie pauses, lost in the tone and the gilded promise there. He almost smiles at Jughead's simple plan, work for rewards, insolence and bad behaviour for punishment. He remembers the night before, remembers the honeyed words that stripped him bare.

_ Trust me _ .

Easy. 

He settles his hand back on Jughead's hip, but can't help the raising of his eyebrow as he meets the other boy’s hooded gaze. Jughead’s grin is pleased, and he runs blunt nails back across Archie's scalp with the flash of his teeth. So Archie flashes his right back, the edge of them skimming just under the head of Jughead's cock, eyes still locked.

Jughead's groan is low, a shake in his bones that pushes him farther into Archie's mouth and bitten off into a whimpered curse as those teeth move with it.

Now it feels like a contest to Archie, and he hums deep in his throat. Jughead nearly chokes on his own tongue, and his muscles tighten under Archie's palms. 

_ Almost there, then. _ He'd be grinning if he could. He pulls back to the head and sucks, watching with a thrill as Jughead bows forward, fingers quivering against Archie. “ _ Arch _ ,” it's a breathless pant, probably the closest to pleading that Archie's ever heard from him, and he groans again around his flesh.

He could get used to that sound, that almost-pleading. It’s enough to make his own breathing hitch just the slightest bit, the urge to shift again flaring for a beat before he squeezes his hands instead, pulling a gasp out of Jughead and a return force against his head. He angles his chin up to keep an eye on him as he slides back down, slow and careful, to see how far he can go, how far back he can fit him down his throat. Jughead's  _ shaking _ by the time he reaches his limit, tongue twitching against him. “ _ Jesus,  _ fuck,” It might be a laugh, some pleased noise or strangled moan, but it makes Archie hum all the same, a cry the next noise Jughead makes. 

Archie's name is tangled around his vocal cords as he comes, and it's quieter than Archie was hoping it would be. The redhead focuses instead on swallowing him down, and is pleased with himself when he's able to do so. Archie helps by holding him up against the table, having felt the small tremors in the backs of his knees. Jughead pulls him up, chasing his own taste on Archie's tongue, kisses hot and hard. 

When they finally part for air, Jughead's laughing. “You sure that was your first time doing that?” 

A slow smile curls Archie's lips. “So it was good?” 

“ _ Yes _ , Archie,” Jughead's tone is indulgent, lips up against his to share his grin. “Did you really need me to tell you that? I was pretty sure you could figure it out by me coming and saying your name.”

Another lick of heat down Archie's spine. “Just checking.” 

“Still, I'm glad to see I wasn't wrong,” Jughead's tone is back to conversational even as his breathing hasn't returned to normal yet. He glides hands down the redhead's chest, over his belt, brushing against his hard length trapped in his jeans. “You really do seem to love being on your knees for me, sucking my cock.” 

“That's what you really want to hear, right?” The warm dark returns to Archie's voice, breath hitching at the feeling of the dark-haired boy's fingers on him. 

“I would. In your own words, of course.” 

“Fine.” The admission doesn't seem very life-altering when he says it, yet at the same time hearing it in his own voice, his own words, shakes something in him. “I love being on my knees for you, Jughead Jones,” he murmurs, leaning in, lips brushing his ear. “I love sucking your cock.” His teeth trace the shell of Jughead's ear, and he hears the swallow down the other boy’s throat, feels the shiver in his body.

Jughead’s hands move up to his waist, long fingers splayed out to glide across his ribs. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Archie smiles, adopts a bit of the honey that Jughead puts into his own words. “I almost told you at one point, but I thought you might snarl at me for stopping. Although,” he moves his lips down, trailing them across the bone in his jaw before stopping just in front of Jughead's mouth. “I would have really loved to hear that sound. Maybe I made the wrong decision.”

“No, I think you made the right one. But I want to test something, if you'll let me.” 

That gets Archie's attention immediately, body stilling in wait and gaze focused on the grinning boy in front of him. “What?”

A hand travels back down, finger tracing the outline of him through his jeans, and Jughead watches the flutter in Archie's eyelashes, the parting of lips. “You want me to touch you, don't you? You’re  _ aching  _ for it, it's all you can think about.” That  _ tone _ , the warm stretch of dark smoke curling around his ankles, sliding up his spine to settle in his bones, the words in his eardrums to light up all the pleasure centres in his brain. He nods, movement a little jerky, and hears Jughead laugh. “I just wonder...how long you could go? If I leave you like this for a few hours while I get some more work done here. You'd busy yourself, watch me, but your body would be on edge the whole time, just waiting to get back to the trailer. A state of heightened semi-arousal.”

“So kind of like how I am around you anyway.” Archie’s voice is rough, hushed and full of rocks and cotton. Jughead's laugh is pleased, if a little lower than normal, and he presses their lips together, a quick kiss with only brief flashes of teeth and tongue. 

“Well? Are you up for it?” Archie nods again, already starting to settle his body, lie in wait. He can feel Jughead's eyes on him even though his own are closed, taking stock and carefully watching him. When he opens his eyes, the other boy’s face is softer, grin turned into a quiet smile. “Remember your free will.” He reminds him softly, and Archie returns his smile, leaning in for a last kiss, gentle and quick, pulling a sigh from them both.

“I'm pretty sure I can handle not being touched by you for a few hours. I mean, I lasted years before this.”

“True, but things weren't like this before.” Jughead's reply is more contemplative than anything else. 

Archie rolls his eyes. “I still think I can handle it, Jug.” 

The dark-haired boy tucks himself away, righting his clothes. “Famous last words, Arch.” He pats Archie's stomach before squeezing out past him. 

Archie follows him out of the room. “What should I do?”

“Ask around and see who needs help. I'll be doing some administrative stuff for the bar in the office.” He waves, not looking behind him. “See you in a bit.”

  
  


Archie ends up helping washing dishes, cleaning tables, and carrying out crates of beer to the bartender to stock. The Serpents are very polite, and civil. They're just a bit rough around the edges. They insist on not letting him help stock alcohol since he's underage, which amuses him. There are also a good amount of female Serpents (and at least one that seems to be non-gender conforming, too) that he never knew existed. The world of the Wyrm and the Serpents is far, far, deeper than he ever would've imagined, if left to his own devices.

They have jobs, and kids, and families, and partners like everyone else. They're just poorer than the other people in Riverdale and a little more desperate to make ends meet.

So far, that's the only difference between them.

It reminds Archie of a phrase he heard once in a civics class in regard as to why people join gangs:  _ the lethal absence of hope _ . Drowning oneself in darkness because you know the light isn't coming to save you. Joining gangs because there is no other hope for you to  _ survive _ . 

Maybe that was true under FP’s reign. But here, in this cleaner, brighter space, Archie sees nothing  _ but _ hope. He sees it etched into the deep lines in the older Serpents’ faces and the bright eyes of the younger ones. He thinks of Jughead's words about wanting to give them something to be proud of, to take care of. 

By doing that, Archie realizes, he's given them hope. Or at least, he's taken away the  _ lethal _ part of that lack of it. He's made that lack of hope manageable, maybe.

The irony of Jughead going down into the dark only to lift others out of it (or at least give them a lantern to see with) isn't lost on him. He’s sacrificed himself on another altar, the one that most people can't see. 

The one they don't choose to see, the one they've lost sight of: love for one's fellow man, for community. 

He couldn't save Jason, or his father. But maybe he could help stop the cycle from repeating. 

And maybe it's not really asking Archie to follow him in the darkness, if it's not really darkness after all. It's more of a deal: if other people put their hands over your eyes and tell you it's dark, then all you need is someone to guide you, to remind you it's not that bad. You were here before, someone just told you your sight was gone. It's Jughead’s way of explaining societal constructs, an age-long battle of good vs. evil. Archie can't help but smile at the theatricality of it all, the grand gestures and poignant words to explain his station here, when really all he's doing is good.

As he finishes up gathering bar towels and setting them aside for laundering, he sees the clock on the wall. He's been so lost in his own head and the Zen of mild physical labor that almost two hours have flown by. 

Jughead's leaning against the doorjamb there in the kitchen, watching. Archie hadn't even noticed he was there. 

“Hey,” Archie smiles and there's less dark there now, more open affection. 

“Hey yourself.” Jughead can't fight the slow mirror smile spreading across his lips. 

Archie finishes sorting the pile, stands and dusts off his hands. “How was your secretary work?” 

“Lots of numbers. Lots of me making lists of vendors to call tomorrow to yell at because they're late on their shipments even though we were early paying.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little more tired. 

Archie washes his hands, then goes over to him. He pulls him into a hug, smiling as Jughead props his chin on his shoulder. “Sounds like a fun afternoon.” He pulls back at Jughead's snort, runs his gaze over his face. “Can we…?”

Jughead just kisses him, not needing him to finish that sentence. “Yes. We can. And thanks for helping out. Everyone seems surprised at how much you got done. I just told them that that's you.”

Archie scratches behind his ear, a self-conscious tick as he shrugs. “Wasn't a big deal. They're all...this is a haven, I can see that. I want to help.”

“No, Arch.” Jughead looks at him, hand going to his cheek. “It  _ is _ a big deal. This is why I want you with me. Because you understand.” 

Archie's eyelashes fan across his cheek. “I'm trying to. They're just  _ people _ and no one else seems to get that. They're trying to survive, and they're like everyone else.” His sigh is heavy as he watches the Serpents going in and out of the room. “No one seems to get past the jackets, though.”

“Humans are terrible,” Jughead agrees with a soft, pleased laugh. “Come on.” He takes Archie's hand, leading him back outside. He waves at the Serpents as they breeze past. “Call me if you need me.”

Several grunts of “Okay” in reply chorus throughout the room as they pass. Hot Dog waits for him outside, tail thumping madly at the sight of him. Jughead lets go of Archie's hand, petting the white beast.

“Be good while I'm gone,” he growls softly, happily at the dog, who just grins his puppy smile in response. Archie smiles, and pets him, too. Hot Dog barks happily, whining softly when they both let go. 

“Such a good boy,” Archie hums, “and he's bigger than Vegas.” 

Jughead laughs. “I know. I could probably use him as my noble steed.” 

They get to the bike, and Archie leans him up against it. “You mean, instead of me?”  He holds Jughead by the hips, thumbs stroking his hipbones. His voice is soft, low. 

“I don't know, Arch. Haven't ridden you yet.” That velvety tone returns, opium smoke twisting up Archie's spine. “Though I probably could find out later, I suppose,” he adds thoughtfully up against Archie's lips. “You want that, don't you?” His hands are suddenly at his belt buckle, one toying with its tines, the other tracing aimless circles right above him. “You wouldn't be allowed to touch me, you know. Not until I let you.” The words are murmured against his jaw, then right underneath against one of the larger bruises. He loves the sharp inhale from the other boy, loves how he can feel the anxious swallow in response. 

“I think you'd like that, me using you to get off. Going slowly,  _ taking  _ what I want like that.” His smile is bright, sunny, in stark contrast to his words. “But you wouldn't be unrewarded, of course,” he adds, fingers now tracing the shape of him, “I'd be so warm, and wet, and tight…” And he grins at the low growl from the other boy, happily being drawn into open-mouthed kisses, nipping at his lower lip. “You'd only be allowed to come when I say. And I think you'd just beg for  _ more _ ,” he gasps softly at Archie fitting their hips together, hands now at Jughead's waist and he knows more roses will bloom there later. 

“And what if I'm really, really good? How long do you think you’ll last then?” Archie's speculative hum vibrates against Jughead's lips as he speaks, heart dropping stones of fire into his stomach at the words. “You're so intent on guessing about what  _ I _ like, but what about you? All of this, all the words and ideas and thoughts of me in all these ways you just  _ know _ I’d love, and I would, but could you really hold out to see them all through?” He grins at the slide of their bodies, Jughead trying to disguise the slow shiver as Archie tries his hand at the wordplay he loves himself. “Or would you have bitten off more than you can chew?” He nips at the spot below Jughead’s ear, a bruise of itself from last night, and thinks he might hear an aborted noise trapped in the other boy’s throat.

Jughead laughs then, the noise more strangled than he'd probably admit to, and runs a careful finger down the full length of him through his jeans. “Do you want to find out? What do you say, Arch, will you dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

The laugh Archie gives shakes his full body, deep pulls in his chest and lungs until he finds that Jughead's laughing with him, heads tucked in together and snickering to themselves at the absurdity of it all. “ _ Really _ , Jug? Really? That has to be the most ridiculously cheesy thing I've ever heard in real life.”

“Yeah, well,” Jughead's still laughing a bit, pulling away a hand to rub at his eyes as he grins. “I was raised on tv and movies, what do you really expect?”

“Worshipping the almighty silver screen since the time you could walk. You were quoting the classics even when we were like, five. I remember being impressed, at the big words. At you. I remember asking you if you had magic, being able to remember all of that.” Archie's eyes are fond. “I remember in seventh grade how scandalized you were over me not knowing who your greats were. You sat me down and made me watch as many of the works of Saints Tarentino, Rodriguez, Tykwer, Kurosawa, Kubrick, Nolan, and Lynch as you could get your hands on.” 

“Hitchcock, too,” he grins, “And yeah, I did, until your dad caught us watching  _ Pulp Fiction _ with all the naughty bits intact.” 

Archie shakes with laughter. “He only found out because Betty's mom kept calling him, saying something about Samuel L. Jackson saying  _ motherfucker _ and gunshots.” 

Jughead's face grows solemn, a bit sad. “I’ve missed doing that with you. We never got to the end of  _ The Princess and the Warrior _ and moved onto Tykwer’s later works. Or the other saints I worship so.”

“There're more?” 

“The Wachowskis post- _ Matrix _ , Satoshi Kon post- _ Perfect Blue _ and  _ Paprika,  _ Danny Boyle, Hideaki Anno post- _ Evangelion _ , and on and on and on. I have quite the list to put you through. Though that shouldn't be a surprise.” 

“We have time now,” Archie murmurs with a small smile, “and I can't wait to see that complete list of your saints.” 

Jughead barks a soft laugh. “Arch, you should know by now that that list will  _ never  _ be complete.” 

“Never?”

“As long as we have new films coming out, nope. Probably not.” 

Archie leans his forehead against Jughead's. “I look forward to it nonetheless. And I look forward to you being able to last through all of those things you're dying to do to me.” 

“You don't think I can?” His voice turns into midnight again, even with his sunny grin. “Goodness. I'm wondering if maybe we should make a wager on it.” 

A mirroring smile curls Archie's lips. “You're going to lose, Juggie. Like you just did. I just turned you into jelly and that was just me  _ blowing  _ you.” His tone is just as rich, his grin turning not just hungry but  _ ravenous. _ “And what would we even bet on? How fast you give up and just fuck me? How many times I need to say ‘please’ before you come?” It's close contact, wolf for wolf, and both boys find themselves swaying slightly in the other’s presence, a swarming bubble around them of words and heat and pheromones to keep them pressed together.

“I did  _ not _ just ‘lose’,” Jughead’s indignation is small, eyes too hooded to narrow at Archie, brain latching onto that first bit as the rest of Archie's words glaze over his skin like syrup, hot in his body like fire.

“Hmmm. Maybe it can't be called ‘losing’. I don't think we can bet on this, anyway, we're both going to win  _ every time _ .” He punctuates his words with shallow thrusts of his hips up against Jughead's, grinning when eyelashes flutter, lips part with the soft beginnings of a pant. 

“You're pushing it, Arch.” His murmur is strained, hands fluttering away from their hips. 

“Oh, I  _ know _ I am,” he breathes, finally closing the distance to kiss him, sloppy with each of them already breathless, Archie licking into Jughead's mouth just to hear that choked off noise again. Bending him back and kissing him like one of his favorite classics. 

Then there are no more words, just kisses and hungry, roaming hands, and dueling wills, each trying to possess the other boy completely, entirely. 

“Come on,” Jughead finally snarls, “and I'll show you what happens when you show your king such insolence.” 

Archie barks a laugh, delighted. “I look forward to it, Juggie.” He grins at the next frustrated growl and the other boy kissing him like his life depends on it, at the soft pants between those kisses, knowing his lips will swell and tear under such assault. “I look forward to your attempt at punishment.” 

“It won't just be an attempt…” But Jughead's words are cut off by another deep kiss, and he's wondering if he isn't actually melting, or if this hasn't all been one long, wonderful dream. 

When he opens his eyes and sees a familiar raven-haired girl, he wonders if this isn't a nightmare in the making. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Archie Andrews?” 

He tenses, looking at Jughead, who's looking pale for all of his new stylings as the Serpent King. Archie very slowly turns around, shielding Jughead from any potential blame.

“Hi, Ronnie.” Archie's voice seems higher than it should be. 

“And similarly,  _ what the fuck _ , Jughead Jones?” She spits, hands on her hips. “Really, ignoring all of us and running away like a little bitch - “

“Ronnie - “ Archie takes a step forward. 

“Don't.” She points a finger at the redhead, “Don't you even dare. Absolutely not, Archie. The time for any excuses was days ago, or weeks ago, or  _ three goddamn hours ago _ when Betty and I were blowing your phone up because of your unscheduled school absence.” She leans to look around Archie and fix Jughead with her stare. “Betty says ‘hi', by the way. She says a lot more and then a lot less because you  _ ghosted her _ . Seriously, what the  _ fuck _ is happening here? What is this? What did I walk in on and how long has it been happening? And  _ why _ didn't anyone  _ tell me _ ?”

Jughead steps out from behind Archie, looking at Veronica with a small dark smile. “I thought she'd be able to put two and two together, Ronnie.” His approach is equal parts cautious and bold, liquid and halting, getting as close as he dares. “I didn't want to fuck her. I felt  _ sorry _ for her. That's why I stayed as long as I did. We all know how she takes rejection.” Not well. “So I decided to return here, instead. Focus my energies on the Serpents.” 

Her smile mirrors his. “Really?”

He gets closer. “Really.” There's fire in those pale eyes now, a determination Archie recognizes as the flipside of whatever had been flowing between them earlier. “Besides, I didn't think she'd be sad long. She has you, after all. Did you know that one night I got her to admit that she wanted you?” 

That had been quite the evening. It makes Jughead smile, still hearing her beg, still hearing himself offering her release if  _ only _ she told the truth. And it  _ had _ been the truth, she’d said after, curled against him. 

“Though I honestly can't decide who looks better, all tangled up in sheets and begging me to get them off.” He paces around her now, all liquidity. “Betty, or Archie? It's like apples and oranges.” 

Veronica's nostrils flare, and her hands curl into tight fists. “Don't.” Her voice is dangerously soft, and she takes a deep breath before continuing. “Jughead, I don't know how set you are in your role, how committed you are, so I'm asking you now. Cease and desist.” Her eyes narrow and now she reverses them by prowling around him. “If you still want to salvage things, you'll stop now.” 

Jughead hides an aching heart behind his Serpent King mask.  _ I was born a villain, to play this role.  _ “And if I don't?”

She rolls her eyes. “Then I call bullshit. I  _ know _ you're a dramatic child. This is not news to me. So save it. I know you're absolutely  _ dying _ to fall on your sword, but you know what? I won't let you.” Instead, she looks at Archie and her expression softens. “You could've told me. We could've talked it out. I wouldn't have been mad. Well,” she corrects herself thoughtfully, “Not mad enough to start a lynch mob or anything. But, you know. Mad.” She shakes her head sadly. “I just...be with who you want to be with, Archie. Just don't string me along and lie about it. I'll get on just fine without dating you.” She pauses, and Archie feels a constriction on his heart. “I just hoped I was more important to you than this, that I warranted an explanation, a conversation, the truth.” She looks at Jughead next, shoulders sagging. “From both of you.”

She turns around, and walks away. Archie allows himself to flinch now that she can no longer see him. 

He didn't love her the way she wanted him to, but he still loves her. As a friend, as someone who's helped him time and again. 

Archie opens his mouth, about to say something, anything to get that look of hurt off of her face but Jughead stops him, shakes his head. 

As the Serpent King, he's gotten quite good at knowing when to have the grace to lose, to give up ground. And now is one of those times. 

Archie just nods, and when he no longer can see her, spins around and kisses Jughead with bruising force. 

“Take me back to the trailer, Jughead Jones.” His voice is nearly inaudible. “Take me there and make me  _ yours.  _ Over and over. Until you can't anymore. Make me sore with it, make me ache with it.” He closes his eyes, forehead against Jughead's. “ _ Please _ .” There's an acute shake to his hands where he holds onto Jughead's jacket, a tremor in kind to the way Jughead knows his heart must be breaking.

Jughead sighs, putting a long, pale hand on his cheek. “Is this what you need right now?” His voice is soft, gentle. 

_ Are you sure? _

“Yes.  _ Please _ , Juggie.” 

Jughead blows out a long, long breath and nods. “Okay. I found a spare helmet for you.” He takes it from its place on the left handlebar, his own on the right. “Here. Remember,  _ inward _ during the turns.” He pauses for one more long moment, trying to make sure,  _ needing _ to know he's doing the right thing for the redhead. “Arch, you -” he meets Archie’s eyes, a shadow curling around them, and watches its slow movement through his irises. 

“I fucked up, Jug. I just...I don't want to think about it right now. Is that ok?” His voice is soft, so soft, holding the helmet in his hands like it's an egg that'll break any second.

Jughead brings their foreheads back together, curls a hand on the back of Archie's neck to hold him for a few moments. “Yes. Of course it is.”

“I need you.” Still so soft, eyes closed, words slid out past his lips slowly, carefully.

Jughead's breath halts for a moment in his throat, and he leans to the side to press a kiss to the other boy’s temple. “I know, Arch. I need you, too.”

After a long, long moment, Archie detaches with a sigh, putting on his helmet. Jughead just nods, putting on his own. Archie holds onto him tight as they ride, and this time the curves and the bends are good distractions. His eyes are shut tight as he pulls inward, muscles trembling with it. 

He understands why Jughead likes the bike now. He gets it. It forces you to focus on your body, not your mind. Life is suddenly very simple at over 90 miles per hour: you pull inward and gravity rewards you and you live, or you don't and it punishes you and you die. It doesn't torment you with ruminations of your fuckups, remind you of your past, or make you fear your future. It merely  _ is,  _ and asks you to merely  _ be _ as well.  

It's freeing. 

So he lets gravity, in all of her vicious indifference to human existence, hold him. And when she lets go, he just wants to be back in her arms.

When they dismount, Jughead takes his hand, uncharacteristically gentle. Not knowing how close the other boy is to shattering into pieces, not knowing if he'll have to put him back together again. 

Once they're inside, Archie hugs him, pressing his face into his shoulder. They stay like that for a beat, Jughead's fingers in the fine hair at the nape of his neck, running through it soothingly.

“You need to be freed from yourself,” the dark-haired boy murmurs. “Will you let me help you do that?”

  
_ Because I can't watch this. Yes, you fucked up. Yes, I'm happy you're mine now. But the collateral damage has made this cost so high. And I'll pay it, I'll always pay it for you and I'll do it gladly, because I never wanted you to have to. Your back is breaking under enough pressure as it is. _

“Please,” Archie mumbles back into his shoulder. 

__

“Okay,” Jughead nods against him, stepping back and leading him to his room. Sits him down on the bed, tilting up that beautiful face flushed in shame. 

__

_ I never wanted this to happen to you. That's why I left.  _

__

He removes the hoodie, puts it on the small, battered desk. The rest of Archie's clothing follows suit, until Archie's left sitting there, looking up at Jughead with dark, turbulent eyes. 

__

“I want you to listen to my voice, okay, Arch? Listen to what I say. Can you do that?”

__

Archie's voice is hoarse with disuse. “Yes.”

__

“Good.” Jughead's smile is suddenly the thing it used to be, before all of this happened, before Grundy and Jason’s murder. Full of diffuse warmth and sunlight and Archie's hungry for that warmth. 

__

“First rule: you don't get to touch me until I tell you you can. Second rule: tell me if you need to stop, and I will. Okay?”

__

The other boy is nodding vigorously. “Yes.”

__

“We're just going to focus on you. I just need you to focus on my voice, and I'm going to focus on you. Alright?” Jughead puts something slow and melodic in his voice, gentle waves against a shore.

__

“Okay.” Archie thinks briefly of the stories he heard as a child, fae voices luring children away, making men do unspeakable things. He understands those stories more now, hearing that gentle rise and fall of Jughead's voice. 

__

It breaks only once, a small hitch as Jughead's eyes flicker. “Just let...let me take care of you.” And Archie smiles at him, small and fleeting and wobbly, something not really happy but more of a reflex pull to let him know that he wants to be.

__

“Close your eyes,” Jughead murmurs when his voice is stable and smooth again, “and place your hands at your sides.”

__

Archie does so and the darkness behind his eyelids is a complete relief.

__

“I want you to relax. So think of all of your stress leaking through your body into the bed. Just push it out through your fingers. Can you do that for me, Archie?”

__

The redhead nods, spreading his fingers against the coverlet, and visualizes all of the self-loathing and the anger and the sadness and the fear leaving him through his fingers, going into the bed.

__

“While you do that, you’re going to take a deep breath in. Hold it for seven seconds, and while you breathe it out, count that out for seven seconds too. In..”

__

He inhales, counting to seven in his head as he holds it.

__

“And out.”

__

He releases it in a soft murmured count of seven. 

__

“Good. Do that three more times. In, and out.” Jughead watches him as he obediently follows instructions. “Okay. How are you feeling?”

__

“Better, I think.” His voice is that of someone hypnotized, a walking dreamer. 

__

Jughead looks at his muscles, seeing how they’re still tense. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do for now. They could always revisit this later and make it better. “Good. Lie down on the bed.”

__

He does, scooting up just enough so that his legs aren’t dangling off of it. With his eyes shut, Archie’s other senses are jumping like happy puppies, wanting to be let out, to receive whatever stimulus Jughead chooses to give them. 

__

“Hands still at your sides. Good. You’re being so good for me, Arch.” His voice turns to silk, with just the barest ragged edge. “So good. You need to be rewarded for such good behavior. Would you like that?”

__

Archie’s brow furrows slightly. “Yes.”

__

“Pick a hand, Arch. With your other, I want you to trace the calluses on whichever palm you chose.”

__

It’s an odd request, and Archie’s brow furrows deeper, but he complies. The calluses are hard, rougher than normal due to all of the work he put in earlier. 

__

“Can you feel that? Those are the hands that helped make the world a little better today. You might think that it was just you doing mild physical labor, but you were a part of something that is actively helping people.”

__

“It didn’t feel like it,” Archie whispers and Jughead frowns deeply.

__

“Hey. Didn’t say you could talk, Arch.”

__

“Sorry.”

__

“Did you want to continue?”

__

“Yes. Please.”

__

The frown softens. “Okay. No more talking from this point on unless you need to stop. Got it?”

__

“Yes.”

__

“Good. Where was I?” The bed dips with Jughead’s weight. He sits next to Archie, close enough to touch but not touching. Just enough to feel the heat of the other boy lying there. “Your hands.” He runs his gaze over the other boy, the furrowed brow and tense muscles, and readjusts his plan. “Do you know why I'm doing this, Arch?”

__

A shake of Archie's head.

__

“Because I want you to see what the rest of us see. What I see. What the people who  _ matter _ see. But your eyes are going to lie to you, because you don't want to see it. Put a hand over your heart.” Archie complies, forehead twitching, and Jughead waits a few moments for him to feel his own heart beating. “You have to learn to be enough for yourself, Arch. On the days, in the moments, when I'm not there, when no one else is there, you have to be enough for you. I want you to love yourself.” There's a hitch in breath from Archie, and Jughead sees his eyes flutter and move under his lids. “Because everyone who’s worth a damn can see it. That heart you can feel is worth its weight in gold, not because you're perfect, but because you're  _ you _ . You are  _ enough _ , Archie Andrews.”

__

Another hitch, a swallow, and Archie’s hands are shaking just a bit, twitching over his sternum and the sheet beside him. “I know you probably don't believe me. Not right away, anyway, because you've been taught not to. But I need you to try. Try to see it. See yourself from my eyes, if it helps. That's what I'm going to do now, Arch, is give you my eyes. I'm going to tell you what to do and you're going to do it, eyes closed, focusing only on me.” Jughead smiles, just a bit, before continuing. “I'm going to show you how to love yourself.”

__

That makes Archie smile too, small, brief, a flicker on and off. Jughead gets up for a moment to grab the bottle of lube and sits back down, letting out his breath slow. “Ready?” A nod, slow and careful. “Okay. That hand on your heart, slide it down your chest slowly. Stop when you reach your hips.” He puts the gilded edges back in his tone, the warm hum. Archie does so, fingers skittering down his own skin, and Jughead listens to the sighed release of breath. “Move it over to one hipbone. Put your other hand on the other. Press in gently. Do you feel those bruises? Do you remember me gripping you so tight, holding you together, and you were just  _ begging _ me for more?” Archie's lips have parted just a bit, and Jughead watches him smooth over the coloured skin, pressing against it and hitching his breath.

__

The combination of the silent night around them and Jughead's voice has Archie's other four senses on edge. Just the simple action of touch raises goosebumps on Archie's arms. Jughead watches it happen, and smiles to himself. 

__

“Go ahead, run your fingers along the bone. But go no further.” 

__

Archie does so, lips parting at the feeling of rough fingertips sliding against the thin skin stretched across his hip. 

_  
“Those hips have kept you standing, kept you upright even when you thought they couldn't. Even though you’re abusing them with football,” and here Jughead chuckles softly, “with any luck, they'll continue to do so until all that pretty red hair turns snow white. So even if you can't trust yourself to keep standing, trust your body. It knows what to do.” He keeps an eye on the stroking fingers, the slight fidget as they brush inward just once. “It knows how to move, it knows how to thrust and jerk and slide. It knows how to stretch,” He draws out the word, voice low, just to see those fingers twitch, that body twitch against the sheets, “and bow and bend. It knows what it wants.” _

His voice turns even more honeyed. “Let those fingers run along the tops of your thighs. Not the insides.” He tries to keep the hunger out of his voice, a hitch in his voice still slightly audible. “Can you feel the strength there? The muscle that coiled around me like a snake when I was inside of you, trying to get me deeper, trying to  _ keep _ me there?” 

_ _

Archie's fingers are trembling slightly as they run across the line of muscle there, something close to a whimper escaping from his throat.

_ _

“Let them open for me.” 

_ _

A long shiver runs through the prone boy on the bed, and Jughead wants to laugh at how quickly he complies. 

_ _

“Your thighs want, too. Just like the rest of you. They crave kisses, don't they? On the soft, pale skin on the insides of them. They crave bites from my teeth, bruises like your hips. Let your fingers feel that softness, Arch.” 

_ _

Archie's hands are fully shaking now, letting a thumb skate across more soft muscle, tensed and getting tenser by the moment. The contrast between the tough calluses on his fingers and soft skin has his head spinning. 

_ _

“Your body craves touch. It needs kindness. Let your hand migrate inward and up.” He watches Archie's shaking hands as they rise, up his thighs, going backwards. “Up, up. Stop at your cock.”

_ _

His hands freeze, hovering. 

_ _

“Good. You're being so good for me, Arch.” Jughead pours a soothing voice over him, letting it drench him. Needing him to believe it. He sees how Archie's chest seems to loosen, the exhale of breath the ghost of a sob. He sees how hungry Archie is to be told he's good, that he's  _ enough.  _ It reignites a small quiet fire in the dark-haired boy, and nudges an old anger in him, the one that always flared when he saw Archie being hurt, or hurting. 

_ _

Archie wasn't innocent. But he also didn't deserve all of this pain.

_ _

“Let your thumb skim the tip. Spread what's gathered there. And there's a lot, right? You've been so good, and you've waited so long.” 

_ _

A soft gasp pulls itself from the redhead, teeth sinking into the meat of his lower lip. He shivers, a blush racing across his cheeks. It's taking all of his control to listen to Jughead now. Archie's remembering his own ferocious need and in that quiet space, it's so very, very  _ loud.  _

_   
“Have you ever wondered what you taste like, Arch? Have you ever tasted yourself? You can speak.” _

“Yes,” the prone boy whispers, “I've wondered. But I've never - “ 

_ _

“Open your mouth, Arch.” Jughead has never wanted the other boy as much as he does now. “Try tasting yourself.” 

_ _

Archie opens his mouth, tongue reaching out to swipe at the pad of his thumb. 

_ _

“Tell me.” Jughead’s whisper is hoarse, rough like the ocean over rocks, and this time Archie does whimper. 

_ _

“It's...it's different. From yours.” 

_ _

Jughead laughs, a low thing, and rubs absently at his chest to keep his hands busy. “I’d think so, yeah. And?”

_ _

A swallow, a shiver. When Archie speaks next, his words are so soft, almost lost in the room. “Sweeter. You were right.”

_ _

“I tend to be right a lot.” Jughead's voice is a purr, body twitching a bit as he watches Archie squirm faintly on the bed. “Do you want to keep touching yourself, Arch? Do you want to run your fingers up and down your own cock, listening to my voice telling you what to do, wishing more than anything that it was  _ me _ touching you, but loving the feel of your own skin? Do you want to come so bad you can  _ taste _ it there on your fingers? Do you need that release?” 

_ _

Archie's nod is fervent, a noise in his throat that flips Jughead's stomach. “ _ Please _ , Jug -” A mewl.

_ _

“Ah ah ah, Arch. Remember, no talking.” The noise frees itself as a whine and Jughead layers more heat into his voice to cover up the hoarseness. “I'll let this time slide because my name sounds  _ so  _ good coming from between your lips.”

_ _

Archie's biting his lip so hard that Jughead knows it's probably going to start bleeding. And the thought of that, of the taste of blood mixing with come on Archie's tongue makes him shudder. 

_ _

He leans over, voice at an ear. “Open your hand.” Still not touching, but the heat of that extra body is there. Archie flattens one palm upward, a pilgrim seeking blessings. Jughead pours a little lube out there and Archie gasps at the cold of it, fingers twitching. 

_ _

Jughead puts a little more space between them, if just to discourage himself from touching the other boy. “Start with the base. Grip there firmly.”

_ _

Archie shivers violently at the sensation of cold lube meeting hot heavy aching flesh, gasping once. When his fingers finish closing around his length, another mewl comes floating out from between parched, lightly panting lips. 

_ _

“Glide upward, with the barest twist at the head.” Jughead has to work harder now at controlling his tone, his breathing, trying to keep it even and honeyed and ready to keep gilding his words.

_ _

And Archie can hear that effort. He can hear the swallows, the rasp, the hitch. He can hear the way Jughead's hands fidget on his thighs or against his arms or chest to keep them occupied, keep them from reaching out to touch the boy on the bed. It sends a zip through his system, a current down his spine that lifts his hips with the stroking of his hand, unleashes a groan from his vocal chords. 

_ _

“Keep -” Jughead has to take a breath, clear his throat of some of the flames. “Keep your hips down. Try to just let it be your hand that moves.”

_ _

Archie nods, brow furrowing. He tries again, gripping himself a little harder, making the twist a little sharper and it wrenches out a whimper, but his hips still cant up just the slightest bit even though he tried so hard to keep them from moving. He feels a bright shard of shame for not being able to acquiesce to Jughead's request, something Jughead sees as the scrunching of his forehead, the pulling in of his shoulders, the quick fluttering open of his eyes. Jughead’s quick to speak, to dispel the negative thoughts.

_ _

“It's ok. I asked you to try and you tried, that's all I can ask of you. Let's be real here, Arch, I don't think I'd be able to keep from moving either.” He laughs, the sound guttural and raw, fingers clenching on his thighs.

_ _

Archie relaxes a little, but not quite to the degree that Jughead was hoping he would. There's still that slight pulling in of his shoulders that remains. 

_ _

_ I just want to be good for you. Since I can't seem to be enough for anyone else. _

_ _

Archie closes his eyes once more, the sudden loud intrusive thoughts starting to scream in his brain. Brow furrowing again when he's not able to shut them up. 

_ _

“Arch. Hey.” Jughead still won't touch him, but his hand flutters out for a moment before pulling back in. “Let's start breathing like before, okay? In and out on counts of seven.”

_ _

Archie's toes curl as he starts breathing on those counts. He counts along with Jughead, and while the volume decreases, the thoughts are still there. 

_ _

_ How did I ever think I could get away with this? _

_ _

“Archie.” Jughead's voice is suddenly hard, trying to get his attention. “Enough. Listen to me, or I'm of a mind to keep you like this, begging for relief until tomorrow.”

_ _

_ I don't deserve him.  _

_ _

But he opens his eyes, looking at Jughead, saying nothing. Still hard, still frustrated, still without relief.

_ _

“Maybe it's what I deserve,” he whispers, knowing he's violating the rules. 

_ _

Jughead blows out a frustrated breath. “Arch, do you remember what the goal of this was?”

_ _

“To teach me to love myself.”

_ _

“And would you call mental self-flagellation love?”

_ _

“No.” 

_ _

“Then quit it already.” He's trying to keep his voice calm, trying to order it into the life raft he knows Archie needs instead of the shaking, rough mess it wants to be. “Okay? Please?”

_ _

Archie nods, closing his eyes. 

_ _

“Let's try a different tactic, shall we?” Jughead smoothes out his voice again. “The hand without lube. I want you to pick a finger and start sucking on it.” 

_ _

Heat returns to Archie's cheeks and he feels himself nodding.

_ _

“Do it as if you were sucking me off, Arch. Do a good job and we'll return to your cock, okay? Because you've been so good, and you're so hard, it aches, right? You want relief.” 

_ _

Archie nods again, one hand still at his length, squeezing the base, the other extending a finger, letting it lie on his tongue. He lets his tongue swirl across the pad of it, the tip, and Jughead can barely suppress the choked sound that’s begging to get free. 

_ _

“Get it good and wet,” he murmurs, voice all ragged silk. “Get the sides, and the base. Show me.” 

_ _

Archie shudders, lips parted to show Jughead, but still keeping a tightening suction there on that finger. The feeling of his own tongue squeezing, sucking, lapping at his finger makes him groan deep in his throat, feeling it echo at the base of his length, feeling it start to pound.

_ _

_ More. _

_ _

“Does that feel good?”

Archie just nods, the way his tongue is curling making his hips cant up. Jughead's trying to control his breathing, trying to keep the roughness out of it, the pure  _ need _ from his voice. 

“Add another finger.” 

Archie does, feeling his toes curl tighter against his feet, his heels start to dig into the mattress, trying to find leverage for friction, for anything. He experiments, different rhythms and amount of tongue and teeth - nips at his own fingertips and whimpers around them. Scrapes them against the side, soothes with tongue and lips and - 

“Enough. Show me, Arch,” Jughead's trying so hard not to pant. “Show me how you touched yourself when you said you thought about me. Use one hand, stroke yourself with the other. Slow.” There’s a bit of a break on the last word, a ragged almost-groan that perks up Archie's ears, chases thoughts from his head until it's nothing but taut nerves stretched to hear every noise Jughead makes, licking fire through his bones as his body chants for  _ more _ in tune with his heart beating.

Archie pulls his feet up, knees bent up to the ceiling, and uses them to lift up a bit. He holds out his other hand to Jughead wordlessly, bites his lip again as a dollop of lube lands on his finger. Jughead lets out a shaky exhale that sounds like it might be a curse, caught at the end suddenly as Archie lowers that hand, spreads it around that tight ring of muscle. 

Jughead catches his tongue between his teeth, eyes flicking between Archie's two hands as the other boy groans, and feels it echo through his own body. He wants to say Archie's name, reach out and touch him, chase hands with his tongue and rove teeth over those thighs, he wants Archie's hands in his hair, tugging sharply, he wants he wants he  _ wants _ -

The noise that escapes him is definitely a moan, eyes glued to the finger Archie's slipping inside himself now. The angle must feel weird, new, because the redhead's brow is furrowed, mouth open and panting as his other hand glides slowly up his length. The pattern is easy: up, in. Down, out. 

Archie whines, the sound nearly constant now with the slow burn and slide, a kind of pleasurable torture. “Can you -” Jughead swallows, tries again with no change to his voice, now all rasp and wet heat. “Can you manage another finger?” 

Archie tries immediately, a gasping cry as he presses another digit against himself, shaking as it moves in a bit. His body is trying to keep up, trying to separate movement, trying to make sure it doesn't get confused with what stimulation it's supposed to go with. 

Trying to keep it easy. 

“How does it feel?” Jughead's voice sounds like fire, crackling and popping and wanting to devour everything in its path.

“Good,” Archie's pant gets trapped in a whine, “Not as sore.” 

“And you thought of me this morning when you tried? Thought of the way  _ my  _ fingers moved, stretching you and curling in?” Jughead angles his head closer, unable to fight every instinct. His hands are clenched into the skin of his thighs so hard, he's positive he's causing bruises of his own. “Thought of how my cock felt next?” The words are all groan, a shake down Jughead's spine that starts from his teeth. He licks at the back of them, runs his tongue along them just to feel something, to keep his tongue in his mouth and not running up the underside of Archie's length. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Another gasp, a whimper, both boys shaking on the same frequency. “Jug,  _ please _ -”

“Fuck,” Jughead breathes, and drags a hand through his hair and over his face. “Ok. Are you ready to come, Arch? Look at you, so good and so eager, just wanting release.”

“Yes,” he pants it a few times.

“Do it.”

Archie bends, fingers having found what they'd been looking for, that one spot that makes the world turn to bursts of light. It's enough, and Jughead's name is on his lips as his hands stutter, stop, a boy becoming a parabola for one sweet moment. He cries out (or maybe he mewled, or roared, he's not sure), feeling pure lightning being ripped out of him as he spills over his own fingers. 

His body immediately relaxes, comes back down, boneless, but it takes Archie a few more minutes before he returns from that other place. He opens his eyes to the ceiling, blinks away the leftover starbursts before looking back down at Jughead, and the sight of the other boy almost makes him groan again.

He's never seen him like this, pupils blown out to black, a creature barely restrained. He looks like he'd pounce the second Archie moves, a wildness in his eyes that's leaking out of the corners of his mouth where they're parted, panting.

More beast than boy. More demon than angel. Archie shivers violently, that need to be  _ possessed _ returning. 

“Jug,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching out a hand, wanting to calm him and give him relief but also wanting to prostrate himself before this boy, this Serpent King, a sacrifice to be devoured. “What do you need?” 

_ What can I give you? Because if it's me you need, you can have me. I’m yours. _

Jughead almost backs away, feeling so out of control, so full of  _ need _ that he almost doesn't trust himself not to move too fast or grip too hard or break something in his haste just to get  _ more _ .

Almost.

Instead he goes to the other boy, as if being pulled on an invisible leash. 

“You,” he chokes out, “I need you.” 

Archie pulls him in and kisses him, still catching his breath, and it almost melds with Jughead's pants. One creature in two extremes lying there together. 

“I'm still...I can't, not yet, but in the meantime - “ Archie pulls the other boy closer, arms still full of lactic acid, sluggish but going to undo Jughead's belt, jeans. Jughead's fighting his way out of his shirt, and soon, finally, it's all flesh and the dark-haired boy breathes a sigh of relief.

“I'm yours,” Archie states plainly, curling on his side, tangling trembling limbs with Jughead, kissing his gasping mouth. That admission makes Jughead growl, pleased, body still screaming in that old animal language for  _ more _ . 

Archie grins but it's tired, loves how he's made the other boy shake, and lose sense. Pulls him on top, one arm draped around his middle, kisses not stopping, never stopping. 

“Say it again,” Jughead snarls against his lips, his jaw, his neck, deepening bruises already there. 

“I'm yours,” Archie sighs, arm tightening around him. “You like hearing that, don't you? Or maybe the Serpent King does.” His voice still tired but quietly sly. “I'm yours, I'm his.” 

“My queen.” Jughead’s laugh gets lost in another growl and there's a sharp bite to his chest that follows. 

“Your  _ prince _ ,” Archie clarifies with a soft laugh. He smoothes hands over Jughead's ribs, drags them down to the tops of his thighs.

“But  _ mine _ ,” Jughead clarifies the important bit, words caught on soft gasps as Archie firms those hands, leans up to nip at his lips.

“Yours,” Archie agrees, and it's quiet, a soft and broken hallelujah. There's a strange clench in his heart at the words, a slight tugging in his gut and words trying to slip back into his brain, but it's as if Jughead can tell. The other boy’s hands come up to frame his face, forehead falling onto his as he breathes above him.

“You’re  _ enough _ , Arch,” he reminds him softly. “This is  _ enough _ . You are what I want, who I want.” They spend another moment kissing, the clench easing with each gentle sigh, before Archie can feel the grin against his lips. “Besides, I don't think this bed can hold you, me, my theatricality  _ and _ your completely false inferiority complex. I think we both have to give something up for now.”

His words make Archie laugh softly beneath him, with his whole body. 

“If I give up my complex, what will you give up, Serpent King?” His voice is soft, fingers splayed across Jughead's cheek. 

“You’re telling me giving up my bravado isn't enough? Fine, I see how it is. Greedy.” He pretends to ponder, dark dark eyes across Archie's face like a predatory gaze to make him shiver. “I suppose I could give you my virginity.”

“Little late for that, huh?”

Jughead smiles, a flash of teeth, and waits.

_ Oh. _

“Are you sure?” There's something warm down Archie's spine, the fuse to a firecracker being lit and burning slow.

Jughead laughs this time, shaking with it. “Come  _ on _ , Arch. You really think I'd do all of this and then be unsure of my  _ virginity _ ? A dumb social construct? I hate almost everything society comes up with.” 

“Dumb but also romantic,” Archie replies, blushing brighter than his hair. “At least…” He pauses but forces himself to look up at the other boy. “I always thought so.”

Jughead cocks his head slightly. “How is it romantic? In your mind, at least.” He's truly curious now. It's just another way Archie's broken the heteronorm in terms of thought.

“You're kinda…” He struggles to put his thoughts together, brow furrowing. “It's like you're  _ unsealing _ yourself for that other person. Allowing them access. Or they're offering you theirs.” 

  
“Allowing them entrance.”

Archie nods. “That's the way I always thought of it. But I've just never said it out loud, is all.”

“To find what's inside of you?” Jughead's taking that line of thought and going with it.

“More like to find the  _ real _ you. The one that's hiding behind literal defences.” 

“Taking down the walls. Or getting past them.” It's clever, Jughead has to admit, and he can see how Archie has used it to balance the pressure on him by society to deflower and take as a boy. He gets it. 

“So you're letting me in?” Archie murmurs the question against his lips, Jughead’s forehead against his. 

“Well,” he muses, “you're in my house, my room, my bed. You’re in my gang, essentially. You've already  _ been  _ in my pants. You're in my head.” It's softer, an admission, eyes lowered just so. “What's one more?”

_ You're in my heart, but you should know that by now, Archie Andrews. _

One wall down. One step closer. 

“I'd be honored, Jug. You took the last of mine, so…” He's red again, feeling heat pound in his cheeks. “If it pleases the Serpent King…” 

That makes Jughead laugh, true joy flickering in those dark eyes. “It does please him, Arch. So very, very much.”

Archie laughs and reverses them, kissing the other boy over and over. He can feel Jughead holding him closer, those long pale hands exploring his back, sliding down to grip at his hips, back up to trail across his chest, along his arms, splay fingers in his hair.

_ This _ is what he wanted all those times he saw Archie touching girls. He wanted to be the one buried beneath with the redhead blanketed over him, wanting to explore and feel his teeth and his laughter against his skin. 

He sinks in blunt nails when he feels teeth at the base of his neck, bracketing his collarbone, scraping across his Adam's apple, tucking up under his jaw. Each mark made is full of purpose, placement thoughtful. His teeth bring out the shivers, his tongue the whimpers that had been hiding there in his throat, waiting. 

“I may be yours, Jughead Jones,” Archie murmurs against developing bruises, “but you're mine, too.”  _ And this is how they'll know, how they'll see it. The Serpent Prince may not be king but he has fangs, too.  _

His words make Jughead shudder hard beneath him. “Am I yours?” His words are shaky, almost philosophical in tone but challenging at the same time.

“Do I need to prove it?” The dark tone is back and Archie can feel a pleased smile from the boy beneath him forming against his skin. 

“Maybe I need a reminder.” A thoughtful hum from Jughead. 

“Like me making you melt earlier wasn't enough?”

“That might've been a fluke, Arch. Who knows?” He barely gets the last word out as it nearly gets lost in a gasp. Archie kisses and nips his way down to Jughead's chest, toying languidly with a nipple between his teeth. Jughead's hands find their way into his hair and tug gently.

“A fluke, huh?” Archie's words are syrup, sliding down his tongue onto Jughead's chest and collecting in his navel, tugging back into his gut. “It was a  _ fluke _ that you came with my name on your lips? It was a  _ fluke _ that I had to hold you up after because you almost lost muscle control? Was it a fluke last night, too, when you came buried so far inside me?”

Jughead's eyes are scrunched tight, fingers knotting in the strands and body bowing up as that tongue slides lower, drawing across the skin between ribs and teeth grazing sharply at his sides. “ _ Aah _ , it...it might have been -”

“Really?” A hum, speculative, and Archie lowers his chin to look up the line of Jughead's body, meeting his gaze with hooded eyes. “So you'll need another reminder of what you are, then? Like when I bury my cock inside  _ you _ this time, and my name is the last thing you say before you burst, the last thing you think before you see stars?” He travels back up Jughead’s chest as the other boy pants, shaking now and just holding on, angles his lips just above his and fits their hips together with a bubbled gasp from them both. “I'm going to fuck you so hard the only thing you know how to say is my name, Jughead Jones.”

The groan Jughead gives is broken, shaking like his bones. His whole body is liquid, a fire that's engulfing him in waves over and over, and he can't help the little movements of his hips to slide them together and run electric currents to the base of his spine. “ _ Arch  _ -”

“That's the spirit.” Archie grins against his lips and Jughead nips them sharply, possibly a reflex as he shudders.

“Get started.” 

“Magic word?” It's less of a role reversal and more of an hourglass tipped on its side after the halfway point, both containers the same now. Archie's grin is wicked, indulgent, and Jughead just wants  _ everything _ .

“ _ Fuck _ -”

“ _ So _ close.”

“ _ Archie _ .”

Archie leans back on his knees, Jughead’s hands sliding from his hair reluctantly. He runs hungry eyes over the dark-haired boy’s form as the latter growls, a series of curses falling from his lips at the sudden lack of contact. “As much as I just told you I love hearing you say my name, Jug, and I  _ do _ , that's not the word I want to hear. We’ll have plenty of time for that later, in a few moments, when you're praying at my altar. You’re going to say my name like the favourite psalm you never had, reverence to a god you're worshipping with each thrust.”

“Are you saying that you're going to be my own personal god, Archie Andrews?” Jughead's voice is shaky, but his grin is growing with another shudder through his system, shallow jerks upwards for friction that's not there.

“Haven't I already become that for you, Jug? With the amount of times you've said my name in the last day? The last two?” Archie's voice is pure honey, layering itself like gold over Jughead's bones. “Whether I'm on my knees for you or you're on your back for me, the result is the same. My name is on your lips with every breath,  _ praising _ me.”

“ _ Cursing _ you, right now.”

“I'm not to blame here,” Archie laughs, the flush across Jughead's cheekbones like the only spot of colour in the room, a focal point for their spiralling, fractured pants. “I'm a fairly merciful god, Jug. I just need one word to bring you nirvana.”

Jughead laughs, breathy and sparse. “God, Arch, your lines. Didn't you make fun of me earlier for the shit I said? Wasn't that you?”

“I'm even willing to forgive you your sass right now, Juggie.” 

“God complex. I don't think I saw this coming.” Jughead snorts.

“Distraction is a loser’s tactic.” Archie flashes his eyes at him, grin wide and head cocked. “And to be fair, you didn't see me falling with you, did you? Ruling hell with you?”

  
Jughead reaches out an ankle, trying to hook itself around Archie's calf, trying to bring him closer. “No,” Jughead admits, “I didn't.” And it's true. He saw Archie pleading with him, with pretty tears and prettier platitudes, but staying on the side of the angels in the end.

He was surprised the redhead was still here with him. 

He was grateful the redhead was still there with him. 

Archie dodges, but his expression softens a fraction at Jughead's tone. “Magic word?” His voice softer, almost a caress. 

A pregnant pause. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Jughead finally murmurs, voice full of need, body full of want, writhing there on the bed. 

_ More. God please just give me more. _

Archie's kiss is a wildfire, a tsunami, the way he holds the other boy's body a hurricane, his eyes tornados spinning in his face with glorious mad glee. Rough hands cradling the dark-haired boy's cheeks, moving down to his hips, a sure grip to ground him. 

“Do you have any clue how beautiful you are like this, Jug?” Archie's voice is reverent, dropping kisses on his belly, dragging teeth against his hipbones. “The Serpent King a sacrifice on my altar.”

The thought alone makes him grin as he reaches for the lube, wetting his fingers before pressing a finger against him. 

Jughead bites his lip so hard the flesh turns white, and Archie bites kisses from those lips before parting for air.

“When you touched yourself, like you told me before, did you say my name as you came?” Archie's voice is rough, ragged, trying to keep it even if just for a semblance of control. It contrasts gorgeously with the keen that leaks from Jughead's throat. 

As the finger slips in, “Yes,” Jughead gasps, hands tangling in the sheets, white-knuckled.

“You were mine even then, weren't you?” The finger curls, and Jughead's hips jump away from the mattress. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Archie - “ It's whimpered against the pillow. 

The finger straightens. “Were you? Was the Serpent King mine, even then?” Archie's eyes and voice are so very hungry, voracious, wanting to devour the boy beneath him. 

They stare at each other. Waiting.

Jughead breaks first. “Yes,” he finally whispers, voice shaking like it never has before. “I was yours, and  _ fuck _ , I wanted you.” His eyes match Archie's, full of fire,  _ greed _ for the other boy.

The finger curls again and the other boy almost sobs. A second finger starts to press in. 

“You have me now.” It's a promise from the boy above him.

“My queen,” Jughead laughs until that second finger slips in and Archie devours his moan in a deep, sloppy kiss. 

“Your  _ prince. _ I'm going to have to keep reminding you about that, aren't I?” Archie's chuckling against his lips, curling and widening his fingers. 

“ _ God _ -” Jughead gasps, bent at his shoulder blades.

  
“Or that.” Another flex of fingers. “But I don't mind the latter so much. I mean, I did promise to become your personal god and all.” He runs teeth along the other boy’s jaw again, tugs at the corner to pull a groan from him. “What do you say, Juggie? Wanna pray to me?”

“I want you to  _ get in me _ or I'm going without you.” It's almost a snarl, the closest he can get with his voice breathy and body shaking. He's  _ so close _ already, reaching out and grappling Archie's shoulder with unsteady fingers. Teeth bared and eyes dark he looks wild, completely undomesticated. 

In response, Archie removes his fingers. “Is that a royal command?” 

“ _ Yes. _ ” It's hissed at Archie, making him grin wide. He runs a hand over himself just once, not needing any more prep, and leans over Jughead to position himself.

He waits, frozen but ready to move, waiting for that one magic word. Jughead snarls again, a growling noise from behind his ribs and tangles fingers in Archie’s hair, pulling him in for hard kisses, wild and untamed. “ _ Fuck me _ ,” he breathes, the words floating in the small space between them.

Good enough. 

Archie surges forward, entering slowly, feeling Jughead's nails bite into his back, raking down muscle and bone. He gasps, the contrast between hot, tight, and wet with sharp and smooth making him shudder. He has to wait a moment before continuing, head bowed down to Jughead’s. “Are you -”

“Yes, just,” Jughead's breath is fast, words all gravel and stones, “ _ please _ .” He rotates his hips, hiccupping gasps leaving his lips at the pressure and burn.

Archie kisses the words from his lips, nipping at his bottom lip and pulling gently with his first thrust. The answering loud moan is just what he wanted, and it's sweeter than angels singing. The pleased cat's grin that the redhead wears is evidence of that. 

“Imagine what your bikers would think if they knew that their king was louder than a girl when he gets fucked by his prince,” Archie murmurs, words twisting between breaths and movement and Jughead's noise, “his boyfriend,” he nips under his ear, slides lips up the shell, punctuating the next words with a savage thrust, “his  _ god _ .”

Jughead keens, head back and eyes closed tight. He drags those nails down Archie’s arms and back up, thumbs under his chin to hold him in place as he kisses him, slots their mouths together so the redhead can swallow his sounds. His legs fold behind the redhead’s back, ankles locking tight. 

“If you're  _ my _ god,” Jughead pants, lips a snarl and teeth bared, “I'm  _ yours _ , too. That's the way that works, Arch.” 

“And I'll be on my knees serving you every day,” Archie reassures him with a bark of a laugh, “I mean, I said it, didn't I? Whether I'm on my knees or you're on your back for me…” 

_ The result was the same. _

“I'd be happy to worship you everyday, Jug,” he purrs against the dark-haired boy’s ear, “multiple times a day, if need be.” 

Jughead arches from his mid-back. “Until you bruise your knees.” His voice is lost and torn between a moan and a growl and a keen, as if not sure which to choose. “ _ F-fuck,  _ Arch - “

“Then it'll have to be your turn.” It's a grin, more trails along Jughead’s neck, testing the skin at points to mark his spots, like so many bookmarks in the same book. He's already broken skin, and Archie can feel gentle wet across his back, as if a wildcat had ridden it. Archie pushes his thumb into the divot in Jughead's hip on his next thrust, holding the other boy down and angling himself to glide across that spot inside him.

The result is immediate, a sharp cry and sharper fingers, throat shaking as Jughead groans loud and long. “ _ Arch  _ -”

_ Unmake me unknit me undo me please _

“I know, Jug. I know,” Archie soothes, laving his tongue over the roughened areas. “ _ Fuck _ , you feel so good,” he moans, resting his head for a moment beside Jughead's, trying to stop the race car of his heart from crashing out of his chest.

_ I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours _

He can feel Jughead's fingers skidding across his back until the boy beneath him gives up, setting and splaying fingers across the back of his neck, not quite as slick with sweat. 

“ _ More _ ,” Jughead rasps against his cheek as the other boy slows, speed almost non-existent now between them. The clench and the glide are exquisite in their slow burn, and the dark-haired boy feels as if his blood has turned into the white part of flame, fire burning between them. 

Archie's smile is bright against his lips, hot open-mouthed kisses that make him whimper. “This is worship, remember? And that takes time.” He runs a palm down one of his thighs, spreading him more, which gets him a choked sound as a reward. 

_ This is my temple, my body, my blood and it's yours I'm yours do with me what you will _

All these things they can't quite verbalize to each other except by look, by touch. 

But Jughead is greedy, switches flicked on towards  _ more _ and  _ faster _ and then taped down to not be moved. “How  _ much _ time, Arch?” It's less of the growl he wanted it to be and more of a rasp, fingers sliding through the strands of hair at the back of Archie's neck.

“Isn't your god supposed to decide things like this? Patience is a virtue.” Archie's laugh is soft, voice sly. “I want to make you scream. I want to feel you leave your body because of me, Jug. You're not there yet.”

“And I want to come. Is that so much to ask?” Jughead's trying for exasperated but a deep, hard thrust has it coming out as a long, loud moan. “ _ Jesus fuck, Arch, please  _ -”

Archie's laugh is strangled, vocal chords as tight as the ball in his tailbone, hefting up Jughead's hips for a bit of extra leverage as he changes his thrusts to shallow, brief waves of movement that only stoke the fire, keep it burning at the same temperature. “You say my name  _ so well _ , I want to hear more of it,” he murmurs, nose bumping against Jughead's.

“Then -  _ ahh _ ,” Jughead pants, hips swiveling and circling to take more, to go deeper, “give me a reason to say it.” He's  _ ravenous _ , that deep darkness in him screaming chanting pleading for  _ more _ . “Get on your back,” he finally says after a long moment. 

“Why?” 

“So I can get what I  _ want _ , and you said it yourself. You're a merciful god, aren't you, Archie?” Jughead's voice sounds so wonderfully sweet in that pleading tone that the redhead can't resist, so he allows Jughead to flip them, dark hair in his face as he looms over the other boy. 

“The things I do for - “ Archie's laugh swiftly descends into a groan as Jughead slowly slides down his shaft, biting his lip, eyes closed, nails sinking into Archie's belly. “ _ Fuck.” _

Jughead's laugh is delirious, sliding forward, starting to move. “Deeper, right? You wanted that,  too. You wanted to feel all of me.” His head tilts back, a soft wordless keen lurking within his voice box. “You should thank me.” 

Archie's hands hold Jughead's hips, now flush against the redhead's, having taken all of him. “Say my name and I will, Juggie.” He holds tight, too tight, but it feels amazing and the few spare roses there will blossom into a thicket of them tomorrow. 

The dark-haired boy’s eyes open slowly as his hips thrust down to meet Archie's. He leans forward, moaning softly against the redhead's ear. “ _ Fuck _ , Archie.” 

Archie gets chills at the tone of his voice. “Again,” he breathes against his cheek. 

Jughead grins, and on his next move forward, he snags Archie's earlobe between his teeth. “ _ Archie _ ,” he croons. When the redhead shivers, Jughead nips it sharply. “Where's my gratitude?”

_ Don't stop, don't you dare stop now _

The next thrust up from Archie is sharp, pulling Jughead’s thighs down to connect them solidly. “There,” he gasps brokenly, and feels Jughead's fingernails draw blunt paths on his sternum as the other boy whimpers. 

Jughead straightens his spine as Archie pulls him down again.  _ This.  _ This is what he wanted. Hard, and deep, and pressed together so far that there's no space between them. He bites his lower lip, feeling that fantastic pressure at his tailbone start to increase, feels Archie's thumbs stroking the soft inner parts of his thighs, pushing them farther apart. 

“ _ Ngh, more _ .” It's a soft command down at the prone boy, who laughs with his whole body.

“And you said  _ I'm _ a slut for it. Jesus Christ, Jug - “ he nearly chokes on his own tongue as Jughead narrows his eyes and moves hard forward, “ _ A-ah,  _ I've never met a bigger cock slut.”

That makes Jughead laugh breathily. “And you  _ would  _ know.” His kiss is sharp, nipping Archie's lower lip hard enough to bleed. “Now give me more or I'll do it myself. I want to feel you tomorrow.”

Something ancient in Archie  _ roars _ at his words, and Jughead feels it in the next round of thrusts, making him gasp loudly. “Make me sore, god, Arch,  _ please _ \- “ Jughead’s pleas are a little softer, more hoarse now. He can feel firecrackers lighting themselves at the base of his spine, getting close, finally. 

It's that last word that makes Archie growl and grip Jughead's thigh harshly, flipping them with barely a thought. He pulls the leg he's holding up and out, hips snapping together and his other hand closing around the base of Jughead's cock with a squeeze. 

“ _ Archie _ , f- _ uck _ -” The way his name comes out sounds like a curse, a prayer, something altogether holy or wicked. Jughead’s neck is craned back, fingers searching for purchase along the back of Archie's neck, his shoulder blades, his spine. It's two more thrusts exactly like that that have Jughead coming with one last shout of Archie's name, groaning his pleasure to the ceiling and dragging Archie with him as everything squeezes him tight. The redhead’s groan is all low tones, rough tenors that shake his bones and spill him into the boy below him. 

When Jughead reassembles himself in the correct order, he finds Archie draped across him, face tucked into the crook of his neck and one hand splayed out along his hip. There's a gentle air in the room that allows Jughead to run his fingers through the soft, damp hair at the nape of the other boy’s neck, to smile at the pleased hum he gets in reply, to carefully stretch out his legs without dislodging Archie in any way.

“Did that please his grace?” Archie's chuckle is soft, fond. 

“You might just be worth keeping around, Archie Andrews,” Jughead purrs beneath him softly, slightly hoarse but sounding very pleased indeed. 

Archie gently rearranges them so that they're both on their sides, looking at each other. “Now I really don't want to go to school tomorrow,” he murmurs, taking in all of the other boy. 

“I know you don't. I don't want to go myself. It's turned out to be an okay place, but it isn't the same. I miss all of you. Especially you.” Jughead lets that hang in the air for a moment before continuing, the quiet smile on Archie's face reply enough. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes. But also no. I know what I did wasn't right, but…” Archie sighs, flinging an arm over Jughead's side and bringing him closer, “Had I been given a chance to get my shit together, I would've ended it with her. The look on her face…I think that was the worst part.” 

Jughead nods, just listening. 

“I don't know what I'm going to go home to. I don't know what I'm going to be dealing with at school.”

“You need to go, if just to show your integrity. Which I know you have,” he says, raising a hand to stop Archie's sudden sputters, “but you need to remind them. I know it's burning you up inside that she didn't let you apologize. I think she's mainly just upset you didn't talk to her. And on my end…” 

“Ronnie did make a good point, Jug. How committed to this role are you?” Archie's voice is soft, concerned. “Are you willing to burn all of those bridges and never come back?” 

Jughead's eyes aren't quite as dark in the low light of the room, and it takes him a while to answer. Archie waits patiently, idly tracing circles on the other boy’s lower back. “It wasn't about...never coming back. Not really. I was forced into this situation, these situations, and wasn't exactly given time or the chance to choose. Here's your jacket, welcome to hell. Here's your new family, your new school, your new life.” His voice is soft, a strange kind of melody through the words and their honesty that Archie thinks might be the true tune of Jughead's heart. “Instead of asking all of you to travel more to see me, to help me transition and to just...to just stay with me, it seemed easier to just...go. I wouldn't make you choose, not when the town’s at war and you have families to explain to. I wouldn't be the person to ruin families and lives and hearts. I’d just quietly slip away.” He's focusing somewhere on Archie's shoulder, and he shrugs at his last words.

Archie takes a deep breath, corralling his thoughts into words that aren't berative, overly judgmental, or loud. “Despite the absurdity of your idea that we'd - that  _ I’d _ just let you go without any sort of fight,” he goes for teasing, quirks up the corner of his mouth, watches Jughead's eyes tick up the inches to see, “what was with all the harsh words when I first ran into you? When we saw Ronnie?”

“Defense mechanism.” Jughead raises his gaze to Archie's finally, lets his breath out on a sigh. “Ronnie called it. ‘I'll hurt you first so you can't hurt me, so you'll hate me’. It makes it easier for people to just leave.” He snorts softly. “Bit of a family trait.”

Archie watches him for a few more seconds, notes the curl of darkness behind Jughead’s eyes and realizes with a twinge in his heart that it's not anger or fury or an alluring dark evil taking over the boy in front of him like he thought days ago, but a twisting smoke to hide the pain, a darkness that rises from self-loathing, and if there is anger, it's from the the helplessness of his situation more than anything else. He leans in for a soft kiss, a gentle pressing of lips. When he pulls back, there's the ghost of a smile in the corners of Jughead's lips. “So…”

Jughead sighs again, heavier this time, and his shoulders fold in with a weary sort of battle-readiness to them. “I'll have to talk to them, too, won't I?”

“Preferably as  _ you _ , yeah.” Archie's laugh is quiet, more of a shake in his chest than a noise. “Let me...let me talk to them tomorrow, and see if I can maybe bring them by after, assuming I'm not torn to shreds. Would that be ok?”

“Might be best to meet up in a Switzerland-type area, a neutral ground.”

“Pop's?” 

Jughead’s stomach growls, a loud noise in their hushed world, and he snorts another laugh. “Betrayed again by this mortal coil,” he mutters.

“I'll text you sometime tomorrow, then, to let you know,” Archie smiles. “In the meantime, food?”

Jughead nods thoughtfully, but neither boy moves right away. His eyes trail back down to Archie's shoulder again, and a smirk pulls at his lips. “You know those are going to be worse tomorrow, right? You thought this  _ morning _ was bad, good luck hiding them then.”

“At least I'll be a hero to Reggie and those guys, right?” He laughs softly. “Though I can't wait to see their faces when they see  _ who _ did it.”

“Somehow I don't think they'll be surprised that it's me. It's going to be the surprise that you got with someone not in a female body.”

“More ‘wait you like  _ guys _ ?’ and less ‘wait it was  _ Jughead _ ?’” Archie huffs another chuckle, and Jughead nods.

“Something like that.” His tone is thoughtful, and he reaches out a hand to trail those long fingers along Archie's shoulder, over his clavicle and up the side of his neck. When he splays them over his jaw, Archie turns his head to the side to lay a kiss inside Jughead's palm. 

“You're gonna have quite the set on you, too. Something to keep you company while we're both in class tomorrow.” There's a thread of that hunger in Archie's voice, just a low hum through tired muscles, but his eyes flash just once.

“You like that, huh? Your perfect teeth marks on my throat. This whole area, really, you were fairly generous.” 

“Told you I was.” Archie winks, and Jughead rolls his eyes.

“Mmm, I didn't doubt you. They're going to distract me, though. I wonder if you'll know when I touch them…” He brings his hand back and feathers touches lightly over his own neck, shivering at the sensitive skin. Archie groans softly, pulls Jughead in close, laughing now, to kiss him again.

“They're already distracting you, and I'm not sure I have another round in me just yet. Come on, we should go eat.”

  
  
  


The next morning, it's cold enough for Archie to need both his hoodie and the letterman, only very very reluctantly putting it on. He's lost a taste for it somehow, football now a chore, and even the thought of channeling his feelings into carefully regulated and constructed violence makes him feel off. 

At least the marks (which were, to Jughead's word, more numerous than the day before) were hidden. One picture wasn't enough to fit them all when he sent them off to Jughead, who responded with a string of very pleased expletives. 

Mid-morning _ ,  _ a text from Jughead. _ A shame you don't get to see me fondling your pretty marks in class, Arch.  _

That makes him blush red hot.  _ Don't cover them. Let them see. _

_ Way ahead of you. The Serpents seem to value that kind of currency. Even if it's just the prospective ones.  _

_ So. Street cred? _

_ Street cred.  _

That makes Archie laugh. Why wasn't he surprised?

_ Have you talked to the girls yet?  _

_ No chance. Haven't had any classes with them yet today.  _

_ Good luck.  _

_ I have the feeling I'll need it.  _

Archie tries to talk to the girls at lunch. Betty’s glaring daggers at him, staying silent, which is never a good sign. Veronica sits ramrod straight, staying very still. 

“Hey Ronnie. Can… Can we talk?”

When she turns her face up to him, she looks tired, dark under the eyes, which seem a little puffy. And it makes him feel even worse.

She appraises him silently. “Try again later, Archie,” is all she says in response, colder than the tundra, getting up, grabbing her things, and leaving. Betty's glare intensifies as she chases after the other girl. 

He's left staring at the lunchroom table, heart sinking slowly into his stomach.

He feels sick for the rest of the day, zoned out in classes and functioning on autopilot, brain running through ways he could have avoided this, and a litany of his past failures. A highlight reel of anxiety in his head. He meets Veronica’s eyes across the hall as he's leaving for the day, and doesn’t know if he feels any better when he sees no ice in her gaze. There's only a tired kind of sadness, her shoulders slumped, and she finally looks away after a moment. He sees Betty beside her, the blonde frowning at him before laying an arm across Veronica’s shoulders and leading her off. He turns to leave, a pit of lead in his gut, and is surprised five minutes later when his phone goes off with a text from Betty.

_ No one cares who you're with, Archie. We just weren't supposed to lose both you _ and  _ Jughead. We weren't supposed to lose either of you. You left us behind. _

There's a burning behind his eyes as he types his reply.  _ I don't have an explanation. Not anything good, anyway. Just a million apologies. I fucked up, Betty, I did, and I'm so sorry.  _

No reply, and he finds himself oddly glad. The silence is better than more hurt words, anyway.

Archie trudges home, kicks the door shut behind him and sinks into a crouch in the entryway to hold Vegas close, bury his face into the creature’s fur and wrap arms around his neck. Vegas noses at his ear, snuffling, before settling into the hold, tail thumping softly against the carpet. 

“Archie?” Fred’s voice floats in from the kitchen, and Archie pulls back to watch his dad pad into the hall. 

  
“Hey, Dad. You're home early.” He rises from his crouch and offers a feeble smile, brittle and cracked.

“Worked too many late nights recently,” Fred shrugs, scrutinizing his face. “Everything ok? You don't look so good.” 

It's Archie's turn to shrug, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Fight with the girls,” he mumbles, dragging the hand around to scrub at his face. 

“Anything to do with those?” Fred jerks his chin at Archie's neck, his movement having shown off the dark colours, and raises an eyebrow.

Archie stills, heat spreading up from his chest to burn across his cheeks. “Uh…” he swallows, carefully avoiding his tongue, “yes, actually.” He curses in his head, wondering why his conscience was suddenly preventing him from lying.

There's a moment’s pause, Fred crossing his arms and Archie waiting for the judgmental hammer, feeling his soul weighed against a feather. When Fred speaks next, it's with a heavy sigh. “Well. Whatever it is you do about everything, Arch, just make sure it's the right thing. For everyone.”

Archie blinks.

“Is that -” he stops himself from finishing the sentence, not wanting to push whatever small bit of luck he’s stumbled onto, and nods slowly instead. “I...yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

He has the feeling he’s dodged a huge bullet. He doesn't question it. Instead he goes upstairs, makes an effort at homework. It's a crapshoot, jumbled words on pages that slide off the edges to the tune of the low buzz in his brain. He finally slams a book shut and stops himself from crumpling up his notebook paper, dropping his head to the desk with a dull thud.

“Fuck,” he says aloud to the empty space.

He decides he can't take much more. Being awake is simply too much. After a deep sigh, he turns out the light, undresses and crawls into bed.

He's nearly to the border of sleep when he hears his phone go off, but chooses the sweet relief of unconsciousness instead.

Archie sleeps straight through til the next morning, and wakes up to several messages from Jughead. All asking if he wanted to hang out, then what was up, then asking what was wrong.

_ I'm okay, sorry. Things were rough yesterday with the girls so I just needed some down time.  _

_ Don't apologize. Depression coma? _

Archie smiles, though it's sad.  _ Depression nap.  _

_ Ah. If you're up to it, can we meet up later? _

_ Yeah. I'll let you know if I'm not. For now let's say I am.  _

_ The Wyrm, 3:15? _

_ It's a date.  _

Even though he got more than ten hours of sleep, Archie still feels heavy, sluggish, as if he's trying to swim with weights tied to his ankles and strapped to his chest. He sneaks a text to Veronica in class.

_ Peace talks at lunch? _

He puts his phone away, not expecting much. Not expecting a reply. He's surprised when one comes at the start of lunch. 

_ Request granted. Usual spot.  _

Cautious optimism wells up in him as he walks to the spot where they usually have lunch together. He goes over in his head what he wants to say, how to say it, and feels his nerves starting to fray as his thoughts cycle. 

Veronica's sitting there with Betty, the rest of their friends gone. Both girls look a little better today than they did yesterday but not by much. He's both relieved and dismayed to see how sad they look, how cautious and closed off. 

_ This means just as much to them as it does to me, and to Jug. I can't fuck this up.  _

Archie lets his eyes fall on them, full of warmth. 

_ Not again.  _

He takes his place at the table without a word.

Veronica studies him a moment before speaking. “You look like shit, Archiekins,” she murmurs, unsmiling. “Reflecting on your extracurricular activities as of late?” 

“Yes. I have.”

“Good. You look contrite, so I  _ guess _ we can talk.” 

Archie puts his hands flat on the table, an admission of peaceful intentions. He tries to remember how he wanted to start, only to find the scattered remnants of his thoughts like leaves blown in the wind or water dried up in the desert. He sighs, closing his eyes slowly, opening them on Veronica's face. “I'm sorry.” It's soft, a thin cord, and he swings his eyes to Betty. “I'm so sorry. I know...I know you're both so mad, and disappointed, and just...just so upset with me. And you have every right to be. I don't think anything I'm going to tell you is going to be a revelation, or hopefully not something to latch onto so you can be more furious.” 

He flicks back to Veronica, and swallows before continuing. “I know this isn't going to mean much, but I didn't  _ mean  _ for this to happen. I -”

“You don't slip and land on someone's dick, Archie.” Veronica's tone is flat, monotonous, and Archie visibly flinches at the words.

“I know. I meant...I wanted Jug back. That's all it was, at first. I ran into him, he was so different, I texted you guys, we wanted him back. So I tried. I texted him, finally got a response, so I went to meet him. It -”

“Archie,” Veronica snaps, eyes flashing, a crackle of fire, “if the next words out of your mouth are a summation of you two together, I'm leaving.”

His hands shake faintly on the table, and he screws his eyes shut for a moment. He counts to ten, taking deep breaths. When he opens them again, stretched out across the distance towards them a little more, he looks at her with plaintive eyes. “They weren't.”

A beat, and Veronica's shoulders relax an inch. “Fine. Continue.”

“He was so...when he spoke to you, Ronnie, he was like that with me. All this nastiness and cruel words.” He sees a sneer start to pull at her lip and hurries to switch tracks. “But I kept pushing him, and fighting. I don't know how it all got so tangled up and different, one minute I was asking him to talk to you guys, to come see us, and the next he...was kissing me.” It's barely a whisper, the words hoarse.

“And you wanted it.” It's a flat accusation from the raven-haired girl. Betty shoots her a look, grabbing and squeezing her hand,  _ play nice _ . 

“I guess I did. Or maybe, it dug up some feelings. Probably both. I never let...I never used to let myself think too long about Jug because of it.”

Veronica looks ready to spit fire. 

“And while none of this excuses what I did, it is a reality and a factor in what happened, so it needs to be taken into account.”

Betty finally speaks. “So you always…” 

Archie shrugs, drawing circles on the table. “It's different, for guys. For girls, it seems like it's okay for you to be close.” 

Veronica mutters something that sounds like  _ toxic masculinity _ under her breath but no one takes that bait. 

“Why didn't you tell us?” Betty sounds ready to cry and he just can't watch it. He's bolting himself to the spot so he doesn't run from it. 

“Because I didn't know what to do with those feelings. Because no one told me what to do or how to handle them. So I buried them and kept them as deeply sublimated as possible.”

“Until Jughead dug them up.” Veronica's tone has defrosted some, but not by much.

“Yes.” 

“Jesus.” She nearly spits the word at him. “And that excuses it?”

  
“No. It doesn't and I'm not saying that it does. But it happened. It was a factor, an unknown one up until I started untangling all of what I felt. Until I was weighing how much was real and how much was a possible deception and how much was  _ true. _ Ronnie, you should've seen him those first few nights. He was locked up tighter than a safe, colder than Antarctica. He wasn't  _ our _ Jughead.”

Archie pauses, looking at her fully in the eyes now. “I don't know what else I can say. I should've gone to you the next day. I should've ended things properly. But I didn't. I fucked up. And if you choose to end our friendship over that, I respect your choice. I deserve no less. But I hope you can understand. I don't deserve that either, but I hope you do anyway.” 

 

Silence. Heavier than the late spring frost outside, all-encompassing, a blanket of it falling over all three of them.

 

“I can't…” he swallows again, lowers his eyes to the tabletop. “I can't lose him. But I can't lose you guys, either. I already fucked up, I'm just hoping I can fix it enough to keep going.”

 

_ Please, please don't ask me to choose. You won't like the answer. I don't like the answer and it makes me hate myself more for even thinking about it.  _

 

Veronica's quiet, jaw tight and fingers clenching Betty’s. Finally, she looses a breath that's more tired than angry. “You don't get a magic wand, Archie. You don't get to show up, apologize, and we return to our regularly scheduled programming.” Archie's head lowers a bit more, and he slides his arms back towards himself. “But,” she says softly, and he freezes, “you look like you're killing yourself. And I don't hate you nearly as much as I did thirty hours ago.” She looks over at Betty, sees the other girl nod. “This is not fixed. We are not done. We are on the kiddie steps in a wading pool. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” Archie breathes, and raises his gaze up to meet hers. There's earth in her eyes where there was fire before, the soft rock below the soil. 

 

“ _ Do _ you? Are you going to walk around here looking like death incarnate for however long it takes? Because I’m not down for that. I'm not telling you to crawl on your belly through the mud, Archie. I'm not telling you to  _ hate _ yourself. But I am allowed to be mad, and you have to let that run its course, to whatever its end destination is.”

 

“I know.” Hope makes an appearance somewhere deep inside of him, a new star after a huge big bang. Tentative like a newborn fawn taking its first steps, shaky. 

 

She nods crisply once. “Good. We understand each other, then. Give us time.”

 

“Take as much as you need.”  _ Thank you.  _

 

She waves him off dismissively and he takes the hint. 

  
  
  


When Archie gets to the Wyrm, the Serpents are deep into a meeting. Jughead looks like he's about to stab himself in the eye if just to liven things up. Two Serpents are sniping at each other, something about territory and he went into mine and Daddy, it's mine and I found it first. 

 

At least, that's what it sounds like to Archie: two children fighting with each other over a toy.

 

The moment he sees Archie's face, Jughead holds up a hand. When that doesn't work, “Hey. Thing One and Thing Two, shut it. Enough.” He pauses for effect. “Since you can't seem to share, neither of you get that piece of territory. Furthermore, both of you are relegated to kitchen duty for the next month or until you learn to work together. Or,” he chuckles thoughtfully, “you kill each other. Whichever comes first. Mina, you get that territory for now. Use it well.” 

 

It's the non-gender conforming Serpent he's talking to, and their face is full of surprise at his words. “Thank you.” Their voice is soft, almost a purr.

 

“As for the rest, it can wait. We've covered enough for today. We reconvene Friday.” 

 

The crowd grumbles and shuffles out of the meeting room. Archie goes over to the Serpent King, waiting for the last Serpent to close the door behind them before turning to him. 

 

“Heavy is the head, huh?” 

 

Jughead lets his mask drop. “You have no clue.” He loops an arm around Archie's hips, dragging the redhead into his lap. “At least 90% of what's in those meetings is them fighting over turf.” 

 

Archie kisses him, and it's gentle. He still feels bruised inside from his showdown with Veronica earlier, and Jughead is able to tell. 

 

“So. Do you want to talk about your day, or do you want me to tell you about how that ‘heavy is the head’ line is actually a widely misquoted thing?”

 

Archie smiles. “Really?”

 

“Yep.  _ Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown _ is the original line.  _ Henry IV _ , I think. Can't remember which part.”

 

“Well, that's surprising. Where's your vast knowledge of dead guys gone?”

  
“Pushed out for less dramatic Serpent business knowledge, probably. Sad, really.” He studies the boy in his lap. “Now would you like to tell me about your day?” 

“It was hard,” Archie finally says after a moment. “There's a lot of damage that's been done on my end. I have the feeling that things won't be the same after. Ronnie asked for time to process things. How could I not give her that?”

“You're trying. It's something. And it may take time, a long time. Which is probably what you don't want to hear right now, but I care about you far too much to give you a pretty lie about that sort of thing.” A gentle blush unfolds on Jughead's cheeks. “I told you before. Your heart, Archie Andrews, is worth more than its weight in gold.” 

Archie says nothing, heart too full. All he can do is nod. 

“It reminds me about the work I have to do with them,” Jughead sighs, looking uncomfortable. 

“You might want to wait until Ronnie's done with me. I've never seen her so mad,” the last sentence is more to himself than to Jughead. 

“Duly noted. In the meantime…” Jughead kisses the redhead softly. “Let me take care of you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I dismissed my subjects for you.”

Archie laughs. “I thought it was because you were about to start screaming.”

“Well,” the dark-haired boy smirks, “That too. Two birds, one stone.” 

“I thought you took care of me last time,” Archie murmurs, remembering the melodic words with his eyes closed. Feels like it happened more recently than two days ago.

“And then I think I remember you taking care of me.”

“You think, huh?”

“Can't be sure.” Jughead's grin is the last thing Archie sees before he leans in to kiss him soundly, looping one arm around the back of the other boy’s neck and running the other over his shoulder, down his arm and back up his chest to sit at the base of his throat. “Might need a reminder.”

“You need to be reminded of a lot, lately. Might be time to go get your memory checked out.” Archie runs those fingers along the skin, swirling over bruises and marks like finger paints.

“You saying I'm old?” There's a slight hitch in Jughead's tone, a tilt to his neck now to give him more room.

“No. Just senile. If the shoe fits…” The redhead’s voice is down to a murmur. “It's either that or,” he leans down to speak against Jughead's ear, pressing a thumb into a large mark, “You just really are  _ that _ much of a cock slut.” 

That gets a full, body-length shiver from the other boy. The next kiss is harder, more teeth and tongue, and when Archie feels a groan in his body, he can't be sure whose it is.

“The third option is that I'm just not that memorable, but,” he hums, breaking away to graze lips over a bruise on Jughead’s neck, pressing his words into the skin. “I'm positive that can't be right.”

“Possibly. I'm just not sure,” Jughead's voice hitches audibly, getting breathy. “As I said, I might need a reminder. Senile or not.” 

“Weren't you just saying how you wanted to take care of me?” There's a soft laugh against Jughead's neck. “Make up your mind before I decide to do what I want.” 

“What can I say, Arch? You're distracting.” Jughead looks up at him with a crooked grin. “But fine. Trailer?” 

“Or here is fine.” It's murmured against another large lovebite.

“You little exhibitionist.” Jughead sounds a bit impressed. “Right here?”

“Why not? You banished them all away, didn't you?”

“Can you be quiet, Arch?”

“I can  _ try _ .”

“So  _ no _ , then.” Jughead's laugh is light, and he tugs once at Archie's jaw to bring him in front of him again, speaking his next words up against his lips. “It's up to you, though. Would you rather have a bed under you when I fuck you, and be as loud as you want?”

“As loud as  _ you _ want…” Archie murmurs, shivering, and Jughead nips him admonishingly. 

“Or would you rather stay here and fight all your instincts, having to waste one hand holding your own mouth, with probably nothing soft under you when you come?”

Archie takes the moment to consider, Jughead grinning at the silence. He noses under the redhead's ear, hands splaying out over his back under the jacket while he waits. Archie considers the bike ride they'd take, the waiting, but being drawn past the front door of the trailer with lips and teeth, gripping sheets beneath him with one hand and moaning the other boy’s name while Jughead works him open -

“Trailer.” It's more of a groan than it is a word, but Jughead laughs and kisses him again.

“Thought so. Up.” He taps at Archie's hips to get him standing, takes him by the hand out of the room. He waves dismissively at the Serpents they pass, declaring his exit just once, and only stops to rub Hot Dog’s head, dropping a kiss on his nose before saying goodbye. Archie does the same, earning a lick on the cheek for his efforts. They're out the door and on the bike inside of a minute, Archie just barely fastening his helmet and grabbing Jughead around the waist before the other boy starts the engine, speeding off with a laugh.

The ride is short, and Archie finds himself able to lean without thinking too much about it, now. He focuses on the wind against his face, and the familiar scent of Jughead as he rests his chin on the boy's shoulder. He even dares to relax the death grip of his hands, sliding one lower to cup against the front of Jughead's jeans and laughing into the other boy’s ear as the engine suddenly revs up louder in a quick burst.

He's just sliding a hand up under Jughead's shirt, nails skittering over his belly, when they pull up to the trailer and Jughead turns off the bike. “Dangerous road practices, Arch.” Jughead's voice is low velvet, dancing down Archie's spine. He flattens the palm on Jughead's stomach, pressing him back up against him and rolling his hips forward as much as he can.

“I trust you. I mean we're not  _ dead _ , so…” He moves the other hand off Jughead’s waist, reaching down to squeeze his thigh and delighting in the hitched breath, trying to deduce if the other boy is panting yet or not.

“ _ Jesus _ , you can't wait the ten minutes it takes to drive here? You've gotta start fondling me on a motor speedway?” He takes his helmet off and leans back, letting out a shaky breath. “Can't keep your hands off me, can you?” There’s a smile in his voice, soft and carefully earnest, and it makes Archie grin as his heart flips.

“No, I can't.” But he does, removing them quick to take off his own helmet and stand up from the bike. He bends down to get the hidden key for the trailer door, straightening to see Jughead kick the stand out and get off the bike. “Coming?” Archie teases, starting up the stairs. 

He makes it just inside the door before Jughead catches up, spinning him around and threading fingers through his hair as he kisses him, deep and long and growling with challenge. His back against the closing door, almost slammed against it. 

“Try...not to do that again,”Jughead manages to pant out, “On the road.” His hands move up to Archie's cheeks, cupping them briefly, making him still. “I can't...I can't really focus on both things at once, and if I veer off with the bike, we're in trouble.” He swallows thickly. “I won't lose you. Got it?” 

Archie nods crisply.

“Answer me.”

“I won't do it again,” he murmurs. 

“Good. You're always so good for me.” He manages to bite another kiss from the redhead before dragging him into his room. 

“Even when I'm bad?” 

That makes Jughead grin wide. “ _ Especially _ when you're bad.” And shoves him down on the bed. “Out of your clothes.” 

Archie sits and stands long enough to shed his clothes, becoming more serpent-like all the time. Jughead sheds his own, and soon is back, prowling over the other boy. Archie immediately reaches for him, running palms down his spine. 

“These are fading,” he murmurs, almost to himself, long fingers tracing all of the bruises on Archie's throat. Without waiting for an answer, he starts under his jaw, sucking those roses back up to the surface. Tongue and teeth have the boy beneath him shivering. Jughead tilts Archie's head back, expanding his canvas, feeling him arch beneath him. When Jughead looks up at him, lips still at the hollow of his throat, Archie's reminded of a beast interrupted, wildness in those eyes. 

The dark-haired boy just smiles slowly, backing away just enough to breathe against his newest bruise and revels in how the other boy just  _ trembles _ before him. 

“Please,” Archie murmurs, eyes locked on his.

“So soon? I’m only getting started here, Arch.” The grin grows. “I'm going to take care of you. I told you that. Makes me wonder if you ever listen to me at all.” 

“Then take care of me. But do  _ something _ \- ” Archie’s pleading trails off into a gasp as Jughead bites at a nipple hard. 

“You’re just so  _ good _ at begging, Arch. It would be a waste not to hear those sweet pleas of yours.” Bites him again, “Besides I'm pretty sure you  _ love _ begging. You're too much of a slut for it otherwise.” 

Archie's laugh is hoarse, pulling the other boy up to him. “This coming from the guy who was pleading for  _ more _ of my cock the other night. Who was  _ ravenous _ for it.” 

Jughead blushes and it's just too damn pretty. “Like you never have.”

“Not nearly as much. I don't think.” Archie's tone is thoughtful. 

“Then I'll just have to fix that, won’t I?” Jughead rolls his hips against Archie's, delighting in the choked sound he gets as a reward, running his tongue up the redhead's carotid, already tasting salt. “Won't I?” The words are formed against his pulse.

“Yes. Please.” 

“Look at you, asking so politely.” Jughead balances himself on Archie's thighs, hands running down his chest, thumbs pressing against the thicket of bruises around each hip, going lower. Running fingertips against him, skimming the tip of him. Archie's hips jump forward, trying to get more, but the other boy gently but firmly pushes them back against the bed. “We're going to go slowly, Arch. So slowly.” 

Jughead leans forward again and slides himself down Archie's thighs, beginning a trail of sharp bites and soothing tongue down the planes of his chest. He closes his teeth around the jut of one hip to hear the gasping breath, fingers flying into his hair and gripping tight. “So responsive,” he grins, and moves lips over to the top of a thigh, bypassing Archie's groin completely. 

“Juggie -” Archie whines, the sound too obvious to be anything else, and a blush springs across his cheeks as Jughead laughs. 

“How can you be this impatient when you've got my complete and total attention? It's astounding.” He looks up the other boy’s body at him, and Archie feels himself being sucked into the dark whirlpools of Jughead's eyes. The dark-haired boy shakes his head, pushing his thighs farther apart. “Do you remember what I said about your thighs, Arch? How they crave kisses and bites, just like the rest of you?” He gets a shudder from Archie in response, a broken groan as he knows he's revisiting the memory. “Are they still craving that?” Jughead's whisper is low, gaze still locked on Archie.

“Yes.” It's barely more than a breath, and Jughead smirks.

“And how do we get what we want?”

“ _ Please _ ,” Archie's hand comes up, reaching for him, and Jughead bows his head to let him run fingers along his scalp, stopping a hair's breadth from the top of his thigh.

“Very good,” he murmurs, and starts the trail anew, the new area full of hidden noises and soft, sensitive flesh. Archie groans low and loud at the first press of teeth, legs dropping open more and muscles jumping just under the skin. 

Soon the air is full of little blasphemies and strangled noises as Jughead marks his passage, spreading his affection equally over both thighs and completely disregarding Archie's length.

“H- _ ahh _ , fuck, Jug please,  _ please _ ,” Archie's panting, the words hoarse and pleading, his hips bucking up almost constantly now. Jughead sucks another bruise near the inside top of one thigh and feels the body beneath him arch up with a keen, fingers tight in his hair.

“Please  _ what _ , Archie?” He smiles against the new mark, pulling back finally to look at the other boy again, a writhing mess on the sheets. His eyes are black again, that wildness creeping in from the corners, and Archie moans softly at its return, at the untamed way Jughead got last time, unleashed and free, all noise and begging and quaking skin.

Jughead waits, fingers idly tracing where one leg meets Archie's torso, feeling how the skin there is actually  _ quaking _ . 

“Make me yours.” 

The wildness spreads, a fire that rips through the rest of Jughead's features. He looks so hungry, like he's been waiting so patiently for a meal that hadn't, until now, arrived. 

“Didn't I already do that? You're already mine, Archie Andrews,” He purrs.

“ _ Again _ .” Archie's voice is rough, and his fingers flex in Jughead's hair as the other boy cranes his head into the touch.

“Did you want me to remind you? Are you going senile, too?”

“N-no, I just…” Archie's scrabbling for coherent thought. “Remind me. Make me yours again and again.” 

“Make you scream?” Jughead looks so pleased, just a big boy-shaped wild thing with a Cheshire grin.

“ _ Yes.”  _

The dark-haired boy nuzzles into the other thigh, finding an unmarked spot and snagging it between his teeth, making Archie watch as he licks across his purpling work. 

“Fuck you?”

“God, Juggie, yes,  _ please _ \- “ His voice cracks and breaks, thin control already fraying.

“Until you can't walk?”

“Until I'm sore.” 

Jughead stalks back across the redhead's body, kissing him with an open mouth. “And all you had to do was ask.” Licks into his mouth again, briefly, until he's pulling away, eyes meeting his. “ _ Anything _ for my queen.” 

_ “Prince,”  _ Archie huffs, looking deliciously desperate there beneath him. 

“Is that all, now? I thought you had three titles last time.” Jughead snorts a laugh.

“Cutting down on saying them. It’s supposed to save time so you'll  _ fuck me faster _ .”

“What can I say? Art takes time. And fucking you is an art,  _ not _ a science.” 

“Only  _ you  _ would try to talk me to death while I'm  _ literally _ begging you to fuck me.” Archie looks up at the ceiling as if in prayer. “What happened to the guy from a few nights ago who was begging and pleading me for  _ faster _ and  _ more _ ?”

Jughead shrugs. “You must have fucked it out of me, good job.” Archie sighs, unable to stop the triumphant smile from pulling up his lips. Jughead snickers above him. “Try not to pat yourself on the back  _ too _ hard there, Arch.”

“One last time before I do things myself: please fuck me.  _ Please. _ ”

Jughead kisses him hard. “As I said before,  _ anything  _ for my queen.” 

He leans over Archie as the other boy mutters his reply (“ _ Prince _ , goddamnit.”), rummaging around in his nightstand, finding the now nearly empty bottle of lube. “Just enough for tonight. We need more tomorrow.” He squints at it, shaking it to hear its volume before coating his fingers. 

Archie's so caught up watching him that when he feels those long pale fingers pressing up against him, he gasps just the slightest bit. 

“Maybe the flavored kind next time,” Jughead thinks aloud.

“Why?” The gasp gets louder. 

“So I can eat you out, of course.” Jughead's expression is priceless, looking legitimately confused. “Pretty sure that's what it's for.”

The finger slips in and coherent thought goes completely out the window. Jughead's hungry expression returns, watching as the redhead mewls, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other trying to get ahold of Jughead's shoulder. 

It's almost exactly what he pictured in the meeting room at the Wyrm, and the image completes itself when Jughead slips another finger in, curling them up against his prostate. Archie bucks off the bed with a strangled moan. “ _ Jug _ -”

“Do my fingers feel better than yours?” Jughead's voice is a low rumble, rough and gritty as he watches Archie crack his eyes open to look at him.

“ _ Ahh _ ,  _ yes _ ,” he pants out, hand gripping into Jughead's shoulder with probable bruising force, but both boys just groan.

“Hmm.” Jughead slides his other hand up Archie's thigh to ground him, pressing a thumb into a fresh mark. “Is there something that would feel better than my fingers?”

“Y-your -  _ fuck _ ,  _ Jug  _ \- cock,” he gasps, hips rolling.

“Very good,” Jughead moans, surging forward suddenly to cover Archie's lips with his, small sounds being swallowed on both sides. “You're so good at this, Arch.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Archie murmurs up against his lips between shallow gasps. Jughead grins, giving him one more kiss before pulling away, lining himself up and pushing in. 

As he waits, counting breaths (because how is the redhead still  _ this _ tight?), he smooths hands over Archie's hips, taking a mental snapshot of him as he is now: flushed, panting with the slightest edge of a whine, littered with bruises and bites, writhing against the bed. Skin gleaming in late afternoon light with the beginnings of sweat, eyes all pupil. 

Jughead says nothing as he starts to move, going just as slowly as promised. This is new for them, this silence, but not unwelcome, the dark-haired boy decides as he curls fingers through Archie's with one hand, the other still grounding the other boy on his hip. Archie holds on with white knuckles, the other hand sliding down his back, trying to push him closer. The redhead arches, still trying to get more of him on every thrust, exposing his neck, head thrown back. 

Archie decides he likes this slowness, all drag and clench and burn, loves being able to hear Jughead's noise (the sighs, half-formed words, pants). 

But it's not enough. Not nearly enough. 

“Jug,  _ please.  _ More.” 

Jughead grins wide, kissing that open panting mouth. “And it begins.” He lets Archie fold a leg behind him, trying to nudge him in closer. “What do you need more of, Arch?” Ripped velvet and ragged silk line his voice.

“A- _ ah, fuck -  _ everything, need all of it need you - “ it comes out nearly as one sentence, all blurred together on a hard thrust. 

“Harder?”

“Yes - “

“Faster?” 

“Yes, plea- “

“Deeper?” Jughead draws out the word, hips withdrawing so slowly it drives Archie mad, makes him choke on his own breathing. 

“God, yes, Juggie,  _ fuck _ \- “ 

“But if I don't give it to you,” Jughead groans, sliding back in with that agonizing slowness, causing Archie to bend his body up at the hips with a low whine, “you'll just keep begging with those sweet words, and I  _ love _ hearing them.”

Archie's growl is feral, eyes flashing with the wildness Jughead shared, and he manages to flip them over, foot pressed into the mattress for leverage and larger body cradling Jughead’s briefly before he puts hands on the other boy’s chest and rights himself. Jughead laughs, a high, breathy thing that gets choked off as soon as Archie sinks down, stilling for a moment at the fullness, the new depth.

  
“Shit,” Archie breathes, body shaking now. “ _ Christ _ , Jug.”

“Gonna take what you want anyway, huh?” Jughead’s grin is crooked, pleased, teeth not fully meeting as he pants.

“Yeah, well,” Archie leans forward to growl his words against Jughead's adam’s apple, starting his rhythm. “You lost the privilege of fucking me for now.” He nips harshly beside the area, feels Jughead's groan in his own teeth. “If you're good, maybe you'll get it back.”

Jughead laughs again, a quick bubble of it before he flattens his palms on Archie's thighs to push them open more, thumbs on bruises and grip firm. “That so? And what, pray tell, does being good mean in -  _ fuck _ ,” he breaks off into a keening noise as Archie snaps his hips down savagely, “in this instance? And what makes you think I'm going to be good?” 

“I told you, Jug.” Archie's eyes are hooded, lips sliding over his and biting his lip briefly. “You're every good decision I've ever made. You are  _ good _ .” He breathes the words past his lips, tracks the shuddering moan through the other boy as the hands on his legs shake. “Plus,” he muses, rolling his hips before snaking them down again, moaning softly. “I know you  _ really _ like fucking me.”

“ _ Jesus fuck  _ \- you're… You're not wrong. But I know the feeling is  _ more _ than mutual.” Jughead arches, throwing his head back, exposing a long, long neck. He reaches for Archie, licking into his mouth, rolling his hips upward, and smiles at the choking sound the other boy makes at it. “And if I'm so  _ good _ , why'd I get my right to fuck you revoked? Unless…” 

He scores nails up and down the redhead's flank, now wet with sweat. “Unless you just wanted to fuck yourself on me. In which case…” He grins, a mad thing, “you could've just  _ asked _ . You should know by now that I can't deny you a  _ single goddamn _ thing, Archie Andrews.” 

“Except you seem to  _ love _ denying me orgasms,” Archie laughs, low and soft and deep in his throat. 

“Ah, not quite. There's a method to my madness. You should know that by now, too.” Jughead pulls him down again, fingers tangling in ginger locks, nose to nose as they move. “After all, I'm the best thing you've ever had, right? The best thing you ever  _ will _ have. I know that I've made you come harder than any other partner you've had, any other  _ girl _ you've had.” 

That  _ voice.  _ Jughead's ragged purr alone is enough to make him shiver before he's fully able to process the content of that voice, those words. That makes the shiver go all the way to the tips of his toes. “Wildest dreams can't compare,” he echoes Jughead's words from nights past, voice hoarse.

“I know,” Jughead laughs in reply, but it's warm, something just for Archie. 

“So are you gonna let me come?”

That just makes Jughead bark a laugh. “If you want to, you're going to have to work for it, Arch.” He slows down, even though he'd honestly just prefer flipping them again and fucking the redhead into the mattress but this was far more  _ fun.  _ “Go ahead, queen. Earn it.” 

“ _ Prince _ ,” Archie hisses out the word, drawing it out as he drags his teeth along Jughead's jawbone, making the other boy’s body tremble. “Fuck,” he grunts, straightening out and staring down at the boy below. What he means to be a glare is probably more of a desperate wildness, but the result is the same. “What happened to not denying me a ‘single goddamn thing’, huh?”

Jughead's grin is sharp. “I'm not really denying you anything. What you want, ultimately, is pleasure.  _ Delay _ is not the same as  _ denial _ , Archie, and it's going to be so,  _ so _ sweet when you get it. There's too much instant gratification in the world, I find. I will always give you what you want.” The grin grows. “Eventually.”

Archie makes an exasperated noise in his throat, head tilting back with it.

“Besides,” Jughead continues, running fingers down Archie's chest, “you were the one to revoke my right-to-fuck, as it were. So make your choice, my queen: you let me take care of and fuck you, or you fuck yourself on me. I'm fine with things either way, really.” 

“ _ Prince - “  _ Archie snaps back at him.

“You seem to be quite queen-like at the moment, Arch, so my loving nickname stands.” Jughead’s chuckle is low, amused. 

“Fuck you.”

“I'm making a valiant effort, honestly. You're the one sitting on me and glaring.”

Archie snaps at that, prying Jughead's hands from his hips. He says nothing as he moves, a quick, vicious jerk of his hips to make Jughead's breath catch in his throat. 

“I see we've made our choice.” Jughead's voice is shaky, grin still blade-sharp. 

“No,  _ we  _ haven't.” Archie leans back, rolling his hips with a sigh. “ _ I'm _ taking what I  _ want. _ ”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“What's  _ mine _ ,” Archie clarifies, “since you said you were mine, that's what I'm taking.” 

“I am yours. But you're mine, too. So make your choice.” 

“My choice is for you to give me what I  _ want,  _ Juggie.” It's hissed at Jughead's ear, and Jughead pulls him into a biting kiss. 

“And what would that be?”

“To come. For you to fuck me.” Archie can see Jughead's waiting for the magic word, but doesn't give it to him. Instead he’s true to his word, taking his own pleasure, grin growing with every sound that Jughead makes because of it. A sparking idea starts in Archie's brain, nothing concrete yet, but the bright edges of a plan he can't see. He cocks his head to the side a bit to let the idea form, and swivels his hips on a slide down to watch the muscles in Jughead's neck tighten, the strength used to try and smother the noise in the other boy’s throat.

His grin morphs and he laughs, plan crystallizing in his head. 

“What?”

“We're going to play a game, Jug.” It's Archie who’s purring now, and the sound of it snakes its way down Jughead's spine, arching him up off the bed briefly and making the hair on his arms stand on end.

“Oh, good. I'm sure this will end well.” Jughead's mutter is dark, a quiver in the words giving him away.

“You wanted slow, right? Okay. You're going to get slow.  _ Glaciers _ will melt faster than I'm going to move, Jug. I'm going to keep us on the edge for as long as we both can take it.” He puts a hand out on either side of Jughead's head, caging the boy in and leaning close. “You remember when you told me you thought I'd  _ love _ it if you just fucked yourself on me? I'm taking your idea. Hands off, for both of us. Only this,” he rotates his hips again and catches the soft curse under Jughead’s breath with a smile, “and me balancing myself with my hands on your chest, and kissing. If you break first, and flip us back, and fuck me into the mattress, you lose.”

“ _ Lose _ ?” Jughead snorts, but his voice is still breathy. “That sure as fuck doesn’t sound like losing, Arch. Not exactly a deterrent for someone who doesn't mind losing every now and then.” The next roll of Archie's hips makes him slightly dizzy. “You're the one obsessed with winning.”

“There's really no winning here, Jug. No prizes. Just bragging rights.”

“And how would  _ you _ lose?” Jughead’s forehead is scrunched, and Archie almost laughs at how easily the other boy can get riled into a competition. But the question is a good one, and he thinks on it a moment.

“If I beg you to flip us, I lose.” 

“So… By weakness of will?”

“Same as you, right? Seems fair.”

Jughead tries to think, but it's getting increasingly difficult. “I see no issue with that.” Though he has the feeling the other boy would cheat. He always did. 

“Good. Game on.” And without giving Jughead a moment to breathe, Archie rises forward on his knees, beginning to move in earnest. His hands spread themselves on his chest as he moves for balance. The light touch sets Jughead's teeth on edge, and he winds his hands into the sheets so he doesn't get tempted to flip them. 

With the element of touch withdrawn, Jughead is amazed how his other senses are trying to reach out and get a hold on things. He swears he can hear them more clearly, taste Archie's kisses  _ more _ this way. 

Archie deliberately goes shallow, experimenting with both trying to goad the other boy into losing and his own pleasure, trying to figure out how all of it feels, what he may like best.

And then a sharp down thrust makes Jughead moan loudly, and he startles himself with it. 

“So much for  _ slow _ ,” he hisses, a tremor through his arms on the bed as he fights off every instinct to pull the other boy down by his hips, make him do that again. “That lasted, what, eleven seconds?”

“After I said it, you'll notice I didn't really put it into the restrictions or stipulations.” Archie hums, laying open mouthed kisses on the other boy’s lips.

“You  _ cheat _ , Archie Andrews.” It's a growl this time, a vibrating thrum that Archie can feel through the palms on Jughead's chest, and he shivers.

“Proof? We're still going slow and I'm not begging you, so…” He laughs into the other boy's mouth. He rotates his hips and it makes Jughead growl louder, wild eyes returning. He bites the redhead's lower lip on the next snap of Archie’s hips, pulling at it just enough to rip a moan from his throat. 

Jughead tries to focus on the knowledge of how  _ smug _ Archie would be if he won, but the images and visions of the future start to blur around the edges with each thrust, each precise swivel of the other boy’s hips, and he almost feels his eyes start to roll back in his head. 

“Would it really be  _ that _ bad to lose?” Archie's purr is back, tongue flicking out to lick along the roof of Jughead's mouth. “You'd get to win first, really.” 

“Don't start with that.” There's almost nothing but a deep rumble to Jughead’s words now, a rough growl where there used to be smooth honey, and Archie leans back a bit to catch a glimpse of that wildness, the loss-of-control he'd been trying to coax out.

“Don't start with what? Don't start telling you about how  _ good _ it would feel to fuck me like you want?” His grin grows. “Going as  _ deep _ and as  _ hard _ as you want without me stopping you? With me pleading for more, more,  _ more _ ?” He moans the last word right at his ear, not touching, and Jughead whines, some primal sound torn out of his vocal chords with his neck craned back.

“ _ Archie _ .” The bed shakes underneath him, fingers tangled and twisted in the sheets and body trying to jump out of his skin. There's a roaring in his ears, low tones, that he can't tell if he's making out loud or not. 

“I'd be  _ so good _ for you, too,” the redhead continues, panting just the slightest bit, “ _ begging _ for more of your cock. Begging for you to  _ fill _ me.” 

“You'll be doing that anyway,” Jughead rumbles at him, “you always do. I'm the best you've ever and  _ will _ ever have. You'd - “ He shudders, “ _ Fuck,  _ you'd do well to remember that.”

“Is that a  _ threat _ , Juggie?” Definitely panting now, Jughead is gratified to see.

He's losing coherent thought, a fog taking over his mind and trying to whisper at him to  _ take _ , to  _ plunder, _ to  _ succumb _ . “It's -  _ Jesus _ ,” he bares his teeth at the next sharp slide down, “a  _ promise _ .”

“Sounds like a threat to me.”

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” Jughead snarls, kissing him soundly and arching his shoulders up to chase him as Archie pulls back with another moan, pleasantly surprised.

“ _ That _ sounds like losing,” he laughs, the sound reedy and thin. There's a lightning strike down his spine at the sight of the dark boy below him, propped up on shaking elbows and tongue tracing his own teeth, eyes half-lidded, full of fire and jungles, and travelling over Archie's body with ravenous abandon.

“Nothing was said about me continuing to lie down. Just you fucking yourself on me and no touching.” Jughead's eloquence is gone, small smirk starting to form. “I'd love to see you continue if I pulled myself up to sitting. You could continue to fuck yourself on my lap.” The purr is back, deeper than before, and Archie's reminded of a tiger’s roar. “In fact, why not? Think of the new angles and places I could hit inside of you.” 

It would certainly even out the playing field.

  
The smirk grows as he slowly rises upward, the angles changing already and making Archie gasp. “Who's the cheat now?” Archie wants to say more but can't, choking on the words as soon as Jughead's fully sitting up.

The dark-haired boy kisses Archie hard, still with hands knotted in the sheets, feeling the redhead's hands flutter with momentary indecision and then settling on his shoulders to keep himself balanced.

The first roll of his hips send any further accusations flying out the window, and Jughead chases his parted lips, devouring the long moan that leaks from between them. Nipping his top lip, lapping at his bottom one, Jughead seems closer to losing control now and while Archie desperately wants to savor that, victory so very close, the new angle, the clench and glide and burn are too much to ignore. 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” It's moaned against Jughead's lips, pants coming heavier now, gravity fighting movement. Fully seated on the other boy's lap, how was Jughead deeper than before inside of him? How was he teasing that one perfect spot? 

“I told you. I'm the best,” Jughead purrs up against his lips, and Archie wonders if he asked the questions aloud. “I'm generous, remember? Just concede and I'll fuck you so hard you'll feel the ghost of me inside of you for  _ days.”  _

Archie's expression is determined, snapping his hips  _ hard.  _

Jughead bares his teeth, a beast in boy’s skin. “Didn’t you want me to  _ fill _ you?” He clenches the sheets harder, getting closer but still not touching him. 

“I think I can safely -  _ shit _ \- say we both want that.” Archie's voice is all rough air, barely any cadence to the words other than whimpers.

“Right, so why are we doing this? Just give in, Arch, you  _ know _ how good it'll feel. All of this you're feeling, but  _ more _ ,  _ better _ .” Jughead’s teeth clack against Archie's, both boys panting too hard to properly kiss, and the next delicious roll down has Jughead whining, a whimpered curse falling from his lips alongside something Archie thinks  _ might _ be a plea.

He only has to hold out a little longer, he thinks, the boy in front of him cracking and breaking apart and baring his soul faster than Archie can keep track of, all teeth and sharp pants, fathomless eyes and an earthquake where his skin should be.

“ _ Jug _ ,” he moans, caught off-guard by a quick thrust up, Jughead somehow managing the leverage with his hands in the sheets, edging closer.

“Yeah? You wanna ask me something? You wanna  _ beg _ with your pretty words?” Jughead swallows, but his voice remains the same broken rumble. He jerks up again, hitting that spot in Archie that makes him bow, see colours behind his eyelids and cry out, but the redhead just shakes his head, determination lining his forehead. “ _ Beg me _ ,” he groans.

It sounds dangerously close to a plea, and Archie feels a grin stretching his lips. “Are you begging me to beg you, Juggie?”

Jughead responds with a sound that might be a moan or a growl or a sigh, jerking up  _ harder _ to hit that spot, to break the other boy. The muscles in his arms are trembling from being forced to hold back. Archie shudders hard and bites his lip (as if to stifle any possible pleas that might come out) but manages to keep himself together. 

It's at the sudden bite of Archie's nails sinking into the meat of his shoulders that Jughead reaches his limit. One hand attaches itself to a hip, the other pulling a triumphant, grinning, panting Archie into a kiss. And before he can blink the dark-haired boy is shoving him down with Archie curling arms and legs around him, snake-like. 

“I won,” Archie laughs, delirious and breathless. 

“Only because you  _ cheated _ , Arch,” Jughead snarls back at him, nipping hard under his jaw. 

“I  _ still  _ won, though.” It's more gasp than words, craning his neck back.

“ _ Fuck _ . Yeah, you did, and your reward is you getting to come from my cock  _ alone _ .” The dark-haired boy is all beast now, lapping at the sweat running down Archie's neck.

Archie can't find the words to respond to that, mouth open just to get air, the savage, quick thrusts as deep as the other boy can go spiralling him off towards the end. Instead, he hears himself babbling, pleas falling from his lips for  _ more _ ,  _ please _ ,  _ fuck _ .

It doesn't take long after that, both lost to wild abandon until Archie bends up with a rough groan, whole body shaking with it as he comes, Jughead’s name the last coherent thing he remembers saying. Jughead follows immediately after, trembling where he's gripping onto the redhead, a strange combination of noises that he presses into Archie's throat, part moan, growl, sigh, whimper, and the other boy's name.

They come back down from it in pieces, assembling themselves like puzzles and handing each other the bits they find. Archie trails boneless fingers along Jughead's spine, hears the hum come out of the other boy like a cat purring its pleasure, and he smiles softly. 

“You're gonna be a real asshole about winning this, aren't you?” Jughead's voice lilts up to him from where he's resting his head on Archie's shoulder.

“Maybe,” he laughs gently, careful not to move too much. “Probably.” 

“So, yes.” Archie can feel the twitch of a smile against his neck.

“Yeah.” He finally agrees, and reaches out to coax Jughead up enough to kiss him, soft and sated and calm.

After a small silence, “Feeling better?” Jughead's voice against his collarbone, still with that purr-like hum to it. 

“Short term? Yeah.” Archie's dreamy smile is in his voice and Jughead doesn't need to look up to see it. “Long term? Feeling better about things with the girls than I did at this point yesterday, but...I’m still a little worried. Scared I fucked it all up. I just want to fix it now, make it up to them.” 

Jughead does look up at him now. “I know. But you gotta give them time, Arch. We both owe them that much. And until you hear from them otherwise, that fear will probably still be there.” 

Archie reluctantly hums his agreement. 

“If you want to do some good, help me with the Serpents. The way we do things may be…” Jughead pauses, looking for the word, “unorthodox, but you'd be helping.” 

“No criminal shit,” Archie immediately replies and Jughead shakes with laughter. 

“None whatsoever as long as I can help it, I promise.”  _ I'll always shield you from that, Arch. Always. _

“Then I'm in.” 

Jughead stretches up to see him, muscles protesting a bit with the effort, and spends a moment looking into his eyes. “Yeah?” His voice is soft, an honest question behind the word. 

_ You'll stay with me? _

Archie smiles, a bright thing that takes its time sprawling across his face. “Yeah.”

_ Of course. Always. _

“Haven't scared me off yet, Jug.” 

Jughead snorts a laugh, ducking his head down as he smiles, but Archie pulls him in for another kiss.

“Shame,” Jughead teases against his lips, still smiling, “this is some of my best material.”

“All downhill from here, huh?”

  
Jughead nips at his lips, lets a bit of the purr wind its way out through his words, tired as they still sound. “Definitely not, Arch. Definitely not.”


	3. Gold Lion's gonna tell me where the light is

They slip into a routine.

 

They go to school. Jughead goes to the Wyrm in the afternoons, checking in on everything, and going into the meeting room to do homework on the occasion he has it.

 

(If he thought he was ahead in his classes at Riverdale High, he's twice as ahead at Southside.)

 

Archie goes to football practice less and less. He's designed it like a taper; gradually stopping with an exit that will hopefully be gentle. There has to be another way into college. He's just lost interest, and he's thinking he's actually been out of love with it for a long time now. For now, he does the bare minimum for football. No one's noticed so far.

 

He goes home, works on homework, then goes off to the Wyrm to meet up with Jughead. He sits in on meetings, or helps out. Sometimes he takes homework with him, but he's learned that he gets easily distracted by his boyfriend.

 

Or that he gets bored and becomes the one doing the distracting.

 

They usually end up at the trailer, drunk on each other, flashing grins and teeth, alternating between laughter and growls, soft touches and firm grips. After the afterglow, they talk quietly, Archie telling him what's been going on at Riverdale, and Jughead telling him about Southside. Sometimes they talk about his foster family (“They're actually really nice, Arch, it's a pleasant surprise.”), and sometimes they talk about his dad. When the anger and coal-like fury slip into Jughead's eyes at the topic of how society wronged him and his family, Archie soothes it out of him with gentler touches and soft kisses. If that doesn't work, he tries for humour.

 

And if _that_ doesn't work, he gets Jughead to let go and lose himself for a time, so that when he comes back down from the blissed-out star scapes, he remembers how to be a boy, how to be the old Jughead. How to be _him_.

 

Sometimes Jughead reads to him, some of his old books still there that he never moved. He knows how much Archie likes ( _loves_ , but Archie hasn't told him that yet) hearing his voice, and it's so soothing to just lay back and listen, to let go of everything else. He knows that's why Jughead does it, a little smile on his face as he coaxes Archie's head onto his thigh, alternating hands through his hair with those long fingers as he swaps the book between them, the picture of blissful innocence. Sometimes they've ended up at Pop’s, much to the staring dismay of other Northside residents, but they eat burgers and laugh, and Archie watches the normalcy return to the set of Jughead's shoulders.

  
The girls keep their distance, but they're less frosty about it. There’s no more glares, and Archie tries to keep the sadness out of his eyes when he meets their gaze across the hall. It's getting better though, he thinks, when Veronica offers him the tiniest smile after a week. It takes all of his willpower to simply give her one back and leave, allowing her her space.

“She'll come to you when she's ready,” Jughead tells him, and he's starting to believe it.

 

Instead, he eats lunch with the football crew, although even that is becoming a hassle. He pays no attention to what they say, recent ‘conquests’ or parties or upcoming matches, zoning out on his food and running through other stuff in his head (usually Jughead) or texting (always Jughead). He spies an empty table one day and wonders if he can eat there instead, at least until the girls forgive him.

 

Two weeks fly by.

  


Friday afternoon rolls around, Archie helping to set up the last of the bar stuff that was going to be used that night. It felt good to work his muscles this way instead of just slamming his body and running with football. He can feel long stretches in his shoulders, power in his thighs and calves.

 

He turns around after placing the last beer glasses out for the bartender and sees Jughead waiting for him with a small smile.

 

“Finally done?”

 

Archie wipes his brow. For spring, it's been awfully warm, he's noticed. “Yeah. We're good. They should be good here until tomorrow morning.”

 

Jughead stops leaning against the doorjamb and pulls Archie into a hug, then a quick kiss. “Good. Follow me.”

 

Archie takes the hand that pulls at his and follows Jughead into the meeting room, where there's a white box waiting on the table. The box wasn't there a few hours ago, and Archie feels a grin tugging at his lips. “What's this?”

 

Jughead grins in return. “A little something for you. Open the box, Arch.”

 

Archie looks thrilled and that makes Jughead's grin grow. Whatever’s inside is wrapped in tissue paper (a bright, bilious green), and Archie feels his breath catch as he draws out the leather jacket.

 

It's identical to Jughead's, except for the Serpent patch on the back. It's a new design, one he hasn't seen before. The snake is coiled, but instead of Jughead's one coil it has two, its eye is hunter green instead of black, and the colors are slightly brighter, a little more eye-catching.

 

“So I guess that means my entrance interview went well, huh?” Archie runs fingers over the leather, the stitching, and glances up at Jughead.

 

“You could say that,” Jughead chuckles, pleased with his reaction. “Put it on.”

 

Archie takes off his hoodie and puts on the jacket. Jughead's eyes light up when he sees how well it fits.

 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, drawing the other boy into a kiss. “Just as I'd pictured it would be.”

 

Archie answers his kiss, feeling different with it on. And suddenly he gets it, _why_ they wear these jackets. It's heavy like armor, and while it wouldn't stop a bullet, it still makes him feel brave.

 

He looks at Jughead, this impossible beast that makes him feel even braver.

 

Jughead strokes a leather-encased arm. “You'll have to break it in, so it might feel a bit stiff for a few weeks.”

 

“Jug, I don't know what to say.” Archie's heart feels full, almost stupidly so.

 

A pretty blush unfolds across Jughead's cheeks as he flaps a dismissive hand. “I couldn't have my queen going around in rags from his old life - “

 

“ _Prince_ , not queen - “

 

“- I also found out when I was getting it made that we actually have funds set aside for the jackets alone. That's crazy, right?”

 

Archie looks at the jacket surrounding him. “No,” he hums thoughtfully, “I can believe it. This has to have taken days to make. It probably requires upkeep.” He'd already seen several of the older Serpents sitting and tending to their own jackets, checking the stitching, the fading, the cracking.

 

The redhead kisses him. “Thank you.”

 

Jughead blushes a little harder, saying nothing.

Archie's hands pull him closer, going to his hips. “Is it weird that it makes me feel braver?”

 

Jughead's smile is shy, a strange creature that's wandered out when it's just the two of them alone. “Nope. It was the same for me after I accepted my new role. It gave me courage that I badly needed. It felt like…” Here the dark-haired boy searches for the words, “Power. It felt like power, somehow.”

 

Archie can see that, and he nods. “Armor.”

 

“I wouldn't use it for that but yeah. A little bit. At least emotionally.”

 

Archie hums in agreement and tugs the other boy into a hug, tucking his chin onto his shoulder. Jugheads falls in easily, folding himself into the larger boy’s frame and sliding his arms up under the new jacket to run hands over his back.

 

They stay like that a few moments, both recharging a bit from the week, before Archie smiles and speaks again.

 

“So tell me the truth: was this mainly a present for me, or for _you_ because you wanted to see me in it?”

 

Jughead huffs a laugh and presses his face briefly into the redhead's neck before pulling back to look at him. “A solid 50/50.” He admits.

 

“Fair enough.” Archie shakes his head with a small laugh, kissing his cheek. “How did you want to spend your Friday night, by the way?”

 

“Preferably with you. Maybe with the jacket,” Jughead hums almost to himself, hands smoothing themselves down Archie's chest. “Maybe we watch a work from one of my saints. Some dinner.”

 

“Are you trying to romance me, Jughead Jones?” Archie pulls him in, nosing against his cheek.

 

“Why, is it working? What if I just want to get your pants off?” Jughead tries for levity, but instead it comes out as that dark purr. His fingers spread themselves out against the small of Archie's back.

 

Archie laughs, his body shaking with it. “You know you don't need a whole lot of preamble for that, right? You told me that yourself.” His teeth tug at Jughead's earlobe and he feels a shiver run through the other boy.

 

“What if I just want to watch a movie _and_ get your pants off?” Jughead's voice is breathy, edging on a groan.

 

“Feed me and you have a deal,” the redhead hums back, one hand slipping up Jughead's shirt, thumb drawing circles around his navel. Jughead can feel his grin against his neck.

 

“God, you're easy,” the dark-haired boy replies with a snort.

 

There's that full body laugh again, the one that starts the butterflies in Jughead’s heart. “Like you're any better? Or are you forgetting that time…”

 

Before Archie can remind Jughead, one of the older Serpents is in the room with them, arms crossed over his chest. He's at least Fred's age if not older, looking deeply dissatisfied at Archie and Jughead.

 

Jughead steps out in front of Archie, his Serpent King mask on. “Yes, Clyde? How can I help you?” His voice is frosty, displeased in being disturbed. Archie feels like there's a warning in the air, like something's wrong. One of the last vestigial animal senses flaring in Archie's head. A beacon, a klaxon, an alarm.

 

“Nah, don't need anything, really. I was just thinking of how _different_ things are now, is all.” Clyde keeps his distance, eyes narrowing. “How clean we've all become. How we seem to be letting in any outsider that will suck the boss’s dick.” He flashes a tobacco-stained smile, and Archie has the feeling he'd spit if they weren't indoors. “You know, things of that nature.”

 

Archie feels slightly cold at his words, raw fear starting to skitter up from his feet, lighting up nerves like a Christmas tree.

 

“Huh.” Jughead tilts his head, an exaggerated studying of Clyde. “Didn't figure you to be a deep man. Or a thinking one, really.” Jughead's voice is all ice now, dripping mockery and disdain. The other man narrows his eyes, but Jughead continues quickly, his voice soft, a warning all on its own. “I'd like to remind you that if you have a _problem_ with the way things are being run, you are more than welcome to bring them up with me in a calm and constructive manner, be it alone or at a meeting.” The purr winds its way through the words, but Archie hears the difference in its execution: the low, rumbling growl of a predator, yowling before a fight.

 

“FP would be _disgusted_ with you, you know. He'd die before he let in any queers.” Clyde’s lip curls up on one end, a sneer to follow his bait, words dripping venom like the creature on their jackets. “He'd be disappointed, too.”

 

Archie sets his jaw, fists curling, but Jughead holds out a quick hand to keep him back. He understands, knows the other boy has to fight his own battles lest his leadership be questioned even more, but there's a slick thread of burning anger that's mixing with the cold fear in Archie's stomach. He can see Jughead's hackles rise, a movement he turns into the straightening and lengthening of his spine, holding himself tall and poised. The smile on his face is thin but stretched, a slash across his mouth.

 

“Really? Would he? Do you know this for a fact, Clyde, or are you running that useless mouth of yours? Because he _raised_ me, so I'm going to have to politely disagree with you there.” The purr is now a tiger pacing, playing with its food before it eats it.

 

“Does he know you're a _fairy_?” It's sneered in Jughead's direction.

 

Jughead laughs then, the sound something that makes the hair on Archie's arms stand on end, drips sweat into the small of his back. It's _dark_ , full of a humour only Jughead can hear, the noise of confidence and ice.

 

“Now now, I don't think we're good enough friends for me to tell you about my family, Clyde.”Jughead's tone is amused, calm, black honey. “I mean, if you're jealous of Archie you can just say so. I won't think - “

 

Clyde throws a punch with a howl of rage but Jughead cleanly dodges, spinning around, taking Clyde’s arm and jerking it upward. Archie watches, amazed. And then not amazed, remembering what he's grown up with, and how. The older man screams in pain and Jughead's expression is bored, his eyes gleaming with manic energy.

 

“Ah. Thought so. Internalized homophobia issues, huh? Sad. You could've just told me you had a crush on me, Clyde. Though I can't say I feel the same about you.” Jughead's voice is at his ear.

 

“ _Fuck you.”_ This time the man does spit, at Archie, where he can reach. It hits him in the chest.

 

“Now _that_ isn't the way you apologize,” That dark honey flowing again in Jughead's voice, like burnished gold, and Archie sees his smile widen into a rictus grin. “My, you really _were_ raised in a barn, weren't you?” Clyde struggles, almost getting free except Jughead just yanks harder, and something pops. The scream of pain becomes an endless howl. “As of now, you're out of the Southside Serpents, my friend. Be sure to hand in any weapons you may have that are ours and return your jacket too, please.”

Other, younger Serpents arrive in the room, watching warily. Archie knows this is a critical moment in Jughead's leadership, so he doesn't interfere, and absurdly feels his heart filling with pride at his wonderful, kingly beast of a boyfriend and what he's able to do if needed.

 

“If you wear our colors or claim affiliation or even take one _step_ into any of our territories, you _will_ regret it.”

 

“Is… That a threat, fairy boy?” The older man manages to choke out and that gets Jughead laughing softly.

 

“Oh _no_ , let me reassure you. It's a _promise_.” Another rough pull upward. “One I will fulfill with the utmost prejudice if provoked.” Jughead looks at the other Serpents gathered there, pausing for effect.

 

“There's more of us that feel this way, you fucking _faggot_ \- “ Clyde’s scream is cut off by a punch to the face. Archie stares at his own fist as the older man goes down, blood staining the skin there. He's not sure why he acted as quickly as he did, except that he saw red and _needed_ to do something. Jughead looks at him, surprised at first and then it melts into open and naked affection.

 

And then he looks out at their audience.

 

“If I catch anyone pulling the same shit, they'll be out just as fast. Understood?” Jughead's voice is soft but dry ice, smoking in its chill.

 

They answer him back with mumbled affirmatives, shocked at the sudden show of violence from a man who, so far, had only shown his disdain for it.

 

“Good. Mina, be a dear and take out the trash, won't you?” Jughead's smile this time is sweet and Mina blushes with a nod. “Take his jacket and any weapons you may find. As for the rest of you…” He pauses, looking for the words. “If Clyde is correct and if there _is_ a dissatisfied faction building itself out there among us, refer them to me, please. I will not have division over something so incredibly stupid.”

 

Jughead scowls as if offended by the idea alone.

 

They nod and dismiss themselves, knowing when to leave. That much, at least, FP taught them. Mina pauses to grab Clyde by the foot and drags him from the room. Once the door closes behind them, Jughead’s hands fly to Archie’s bloodied fist, checking it over.

 

“I'm okay,” the redhead murmurs, instead pulling Jughead into a tight hug. He can feel the other boy's flushed face burying itself into his neck, hot and sticky.

 

“That was close,” Jughead replies after a moment, his voice hoarse.

 

“You were amazing,” Archie murmurs into his hair. “You’re definitely the Serpent King.”

 

Jughead shakes his head and pulls back, and Archie watches the shifting emotions run through his eyes. He darts them about the room as if concerned that more threats are going to pour in from the ceiling, and he's still holding onto Archie's wrist, periodically glancing down at it with something close to a panicked fury.

 

“Jug. Hey, Juggie. Hey. It's ok, my hand’s fine, I promise. I'm ok, no one got hurt. It's just some bigoted asshole.” Jughead just shakes his head again, and Archie wonders if he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Something drops in Archie's stomach and he glances around the room himself before coming to a quick decision. He reaches up slowly to hold Jughead's face, fingers barely touching, just the ghost to remind him he's there. There’s a shake running through the other boy that Archie's not sure if he knows about or not, so fine is it along his skin. “Ok, here. I'm going to take you back to my house, alright? Let's go there. A little change of scenery.”

 

It's a testament to how shaken Jughead is that he nods, swallowing once and finally settling eyes back on Archie’s. Archie takes a breath at the sight of them, of him, like a caged beast that's been released in a new place, having to relearn how to be in unfamiliar territory. There’s a fear there, cold and unfettered, slithering around behind the anger, the hatred, and the quiet doubt Archie can see in the way his body won't quite stop moving.

 

Archie swallows, too, and firms the hands on the other boy’s cheeks just a bit. “Are you ok to drive the bike, or -”

 

“Yes.” Jughead’s first word in minutes is a rough whisper. “The bike is fine, let's go.”

 

He takes a moment to reset his stance, his shoulders, but Archie notes with a heavy heart the way they can't line up properly, the mask taking longer than normal to put on, its duration shorter.

 

They leave the room, hands to themselves, and Archie understands that this, too, is a test, even though he just wants to reach out for the other boy. As they pass through the Wyrm, Archie can see some of the Serpents frown or avert their eyes, some acknowledging their passage with a nod or sympathetic eyes. Jughead stares at each of them as they pass, making a list of who responds how, and he nods once at Mina before pushing open the front door.

 

She must have taken Clyde out the back, Jughead thinks with a slick feeling of relief as he heads towards his bike. He has a strange urgency pressing between his shoulder blades, something telling him to take the motorcycle, take Archie, and _go_. Get away from here, let everything settle, find a new safety. The voice that would normally be on high alert about being in the Northside, about seeing Fred Andrews for the first time in weeks, is so quiet in his head compared to the loud cacophony of emotions from everything else that he almost can't wait to cross the tracks.

 

All traces of the older Serpent seem to be gone when they get outside - just a quiet early Friday evening and Archie couldn't be more thankful for it. They get on the bike, Jughead starts it up. Archie puts his arms around him tightly and at first, Jughead twitches (because it's really not a flinch, not quite), but then pulls him closer, needing that contact.

 

“I have you,” he murmurs into Jughead's ear as they leave, “Not gonna let you go.”

 

They cross the tracks and Jughead finally relaxes, though his shoulders are still a bit tighter than usual. They drop a little more when they finally get to Archie's, the animal awareness whispering _safe_ and _home_ , even though it hasn't been for a few months. This place has always been safe, always a shelter for Jughead when he's needed it.

 

Archie takes his hand, leading him inside. When Jughead steps over the threshold, he still feels wary, and Archie notes it as a caged animal watching what's around it. Comfortable in its cage but not quite comfortable around humans.

  
“That you, Arch?” Fred's voice comes from the den.

“Uh, yeah.”

 

Fred meanders into view, leaning on a door jam. “Wasn't sure you'd coming home tonight.” Sees Jughead and smiles, “Hey, Jug.”

 

It's then that he seems to notice the jackets, and he tenses, just enough to be noticeable.

 

Jughead flushes, watching his body language change. “Hey, Mr. Andrews.” His voice is soft, shaky, hoarse.

 

Fred notices Archie's knuckles, still slightly bloody, and his brow furrows. “You boys okay?”

 

“Yeah, just…” Jughead isn't able to finish the sentence, surprised at himself and how he seems to be more shaken than he originally thought.

 

“Just a bit of a rough day,” Archie finishes for him, squeezing his hand. “I'm fine, Dad, promise.”

 

“I can see that.” Fred murmurs, and his eyes slide over to their joined hands. His face changes and Archie stills, waiting, but all that’s different is a raising of his eyebrow, a slight tick in his mouth of a smile he's hiding. He sips at his beer and Archie relaxes in sections, glancing over at Jughead again.

 

The other boy is just standing, shoulders down and folded slightly in on themselves, gaze at a spot just above Fred’s shoulder and eyes slightly glassy, like he's too busy reigning in thoughts and spiralling anxieties to focus on a face.

 

“Jug,” Fred starts, and Jughead's eyes slide up, blinking once. They hold each other's stare for a moment and Fred rubs at his chin absently with one hand. He finally sighs, a tension leaving his shoulders that Archie thinks might have been there for months, and takes steps over to the other boy. When he gets close enough, Archie gently releases Jughead's hand, and Fred pulls the dark-haired boy into a hug. “Welcome home.”

 

There’s only a beat of hesitation before Jughead returns the action, and Archie watches some of the tenseness leak out of him as well. It eases out of his shoulders, relaxes his spine, drains through his feet into the floor, until it's just them, just Jughead being held by someone who helped raise him.

 

Jughead closes his eyes, allows himself this moment, with someone who was always more of a father to him than his own. He doesn't trust himself to speak but just nods against Fred's shoulder.

 

“Thanks,” he finally murmurs, and feels strong enough to let go.

 

Fred just smiles at him, and Jughead's heart twists at seeing the kindness there. He sees where Archie gets it, a genetic prerequisite to his existence, a natural law; all Andrews men are kind, they try to do what's right even if they're not always _good_. The light that comes out of them is a different wavelength, another UV spectrum entirely.

 

They're their own force of nature.

 

“We missed having you around.”

 

“I…” Jughead clears his throat, “I missed being here.”

 

“You hungry?” Fred eyes the body under the jacket, trying to suss out if they're ‘feeding him properly’, Jughead's sure. The action makes him smile, familiarity easing through his system like a soothing voice, trying to tone down his frazzled nerves.

 

“I could eat.”

 

“Great. Well…” Fred digs in his pocket and hands them a few bills. “Order pizza or something. Meanwhile, I'm gonna go watch the game with the guys. One of them has one of those 4K TVs or something.”

 

Archie grins, trying not to laugh at how his father is almost tripping over himself to give them time alone.

 

“Or maybe it was one of those curvy ones. Either way he keeps saying that it's gonna change my life,” Fred muses to himself aloud, grabbing his jacket. He gives Archie a look.

 

“Go ahead and order something, okay? I'll catch up with you,” he murmurs and Jughead nods, going into the kitchen.

 

“Arch, we'll be talking about _this_ ,” and here Fred waves vaguely at the jacket, Archie's split knuckles, “later. Okay?”

 

Archie nods, feeling vague future dread starting to form in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah.”

 

“I'm not mad. But we'll talk.” Fred's tone is level, calm, but also brooks no bullshit whatsoever. “You go and take care of your boy, okay? He looks rough for wear.”

 

Gentle relief spreads through Archie's body at his words, though the dread is still seeded there. Archie didn't have to tell him, and Fred doesn't seem surprised in the least. “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

 

Fred just ruffles his hair and leaves.

 

The pizza arrives quickly, all things considered, and is devoured within minutes flat. Both boys are hungrier than they thought they'd been, and Jughead warily watches the shadows, making sure no new threats emerge. It reminds Archie of when they were little and Jughead was there, seeking asylum after FP’s newest drunken tantrum. The expression he wears now is identical to the one he wore then; calm but hyper vigilant, eyes tracking all movement or lack thereof, shoulders still tense, hackles raised.

When they're done, Archie cleans up and stretches, finally feeling calmer. He winces when he sees his knuckles; clean now but still messed up. They'll probably scar, but if it was to defend the boy there with him, staring into space, it was worth it.

 

 _He_ was worth it.

 

Jughead looks up at him. “Now what?”

 

Archie pulls him up. “Now,” he murmurs, running fingers along Jughead's cheek, “I take care of you.”

  
  


They go upstairs, hand in hand. The familiar scent of Archie's room sets Jughead a bit more at ease.

 

Safely there, Archie hugs Jughead tightly, just breathing, trying to let everything that had happened that day leak out of him, out of them. When he pulls away Jughead looks a little better, but still not optimal. There's still a wild fear in those pale eyes, disquiet, hesitance.

 

“I have an idea. How about a bath?”

 

Jughead chuckles until he sees Archie is serious. “Baths? At your age?”

 

Archie scratches the back of his neck self-consciously. “Lets me think. I started taking them again when I was too sore from football to keep standing for a shower.”

 

“Ah. That actually makes sense.” Jughead says it more to himself than to Archie and it makes the redhead laugh.

 

“Yeah. It's incredibly soothing. Ronnie left some smelly stuff here one time that doubled as bubble bath, and I used it once and sorta…”

 

“Fell in love with it?” Jughead supplies softly, eyelids drooping. He's starting to look less wild, more bone-achingly exhausted, but Archie can still see the remnants in his irises, and his heart aches.

 

“Yeah. It smelled _really_ nice.”

 

“Hmm.” Jughead hums noncommittally, rubs absently at one eye. “You do smell nice.”

 

Archie runs eyes over him, notes the dream-like quality of his voice, the systems in his brain seeming to turn themselves off in self-defense and causing him to speak without filters.

 

“So how 'bout it?”

 

Jughead shrugs, exhaustion etched in that movement alone. “Why not? At least I'll smell better than I do now.”

 

Archie takes off his own jacket, then helps Jughead with his before tugging his hand and bringing him into the bathroom. He gets the water started, rummaging under the sink. He brings out a bottle, squints at it a second and then looks at Jughead. “Lavender and rosemary sound okay? I know that they help with relaxing.”

 

Jughead pulls off his beanie and shirt, stretching. “Sounds fine. At least it’s not roses.”

 

Archie laughs. “What's wrong with rose-scented stuff?”

 

“Use enough of it and you can taste it. I think we had a substitute teacher that did that once. You could _taste_ it and it tasted like drinking perfume. Bitter, tangy…” He shivers in disgust, getting his jeans off.

 

Archie screws up his features in thought, trying to remember. “Second grade?”

 

Jughead nods crisply. “Haven't been able to stand the smell of them since.” And with that, he gets into the tub, first shivering and then wincing at the heat. Then settles in with a sigh, features starting to smooth out in peace. He crooks a come-hither finger at Archie, who grins.

 

“Come on in, Arch. The water’s _fine_.” Jughead's tone is somewhere between a laugh and a sigh and a purr.

 

Archie joins him, shivering, wincing, and then relaxing like the other boy did moments before.

 

“After all the prodding it took to get you in here,” Archie shakes his head with a laugh. After a bit he turns off the water, reaches for Jughead. “Feeling better?”

 

The dark-haired boy opens one eye and Archie's reminded of a napping cat being disturbed. “Feeling _excellent_.”

 

“Relaxing?”

 

“Andrews,” Jughead sighs, “You occasionally do indeed have good ideas.”

 

That just makes Archie laugh softly, bringing him closer. “Occasionally.” His face grows sober. “I was worried, after what happened today,” he starts slowly, “you.. you just seemed almost _frantic_ after. I busted up my knuckles but I'm okay.”

 

Jughead listens, expression growing wary.

 

“It reminded me of when we were kids and how you stayed over sometimes. Your face, how you held yourself…” Archie sighs sadly, “it was identical to then.”

 

Jughead’s face tightens just a bit. He reaches for a clean washcloth near the sink, and hands it to Archie. “Wash my back?” His voice is so soft that Archie almost doesn't hear it. He nods, letting Jughead turn around, lets him recover from that terrible intimacy.

 

Archie soaps up the washcloth, moving it in large, soothing circles, over and over, from the tips of his shoulders to his lower back. He treats it as a sacred act, not missing a single inch of flesh, giving it his full attention. Jughead shivers, rounding his back, giving him full access. Arms around his knees and forehead resting there, letting the other boy take all of that stress, letting him lift it from him like Atlus’ globe, over and over until he's swaying with Archie's hands and how they move.

 

If he weren't quite as tense, Archie thinks, he'd be purring, too.

 

After a few minutes, with Archie's hands gentle but strong and kneading out some of the snarled knots in his shoulders, Jughead speaks.

 

“I looked like that probably because I felt the same way as back then.” It's a soft admission, only slightly louder than the sound of the washcloth moving, and Archie pauses for a second before continuing, knowing to just let Jughead talk. “When we were younger, when I stayed over...well, you knew why. It wasn't hard to figure out. I had to leave to not get hurt, to not feel trapped, to get somewhere safe, but it always took time to remind myself once I got here that this _was_ safe.” He halts for a moment, and his next words are slightly softer. “That this was home.”

  
_That I'd be okay._

Archie lets the washcloth float now, focusing more on massaging his shoulders, working the knots from his neck and sliding fingers once through the wet hair. Jughead continues again, arms more lax to let him at the muscles in his shoulder blades. “Tonight was...tonight was a waking nightmare, Archie. I can't express that enough. It was everything I feared would happen when I was a kid, being friends with you and having you in my life. It was dangerous for you to even be _around_ me, and I was _terrified_ that you'd be there one day, one dark day in my house. Even if my dad doesn’t think like Clyde does, for a moment that's who he was. It wasn't Clyde who took a swing, it was my _dad_ , and you were _there_ and what if I couldn't _protect_ you, what if he _hit_ you, it was my -” he halts, taking a deep, shuddering breath, rattling in his lungs like copper pennies. Acid and lemon lurk in the back of his throat.

Archie’s hands have stopped, shaking slightly on the tops of Jughead's shoulders. He opens his mouth before shutting it again, and pulls gently to bring the other boy to him, his back to Archie's chest. He curls arms around his neck, his arms, his chest, holding him tight, tucking his face into the side of his neck and feeling their hearts beat out the same staccato rhythm.

“In _no way_ was this your fault, Jughead.” He presses the words into his skin, sends a quick wish for them to swim through his blood to reach his heart, seed themselves in his bones for darker days, twist their roots into his veins.

“It doesn’t _matter_. You were there because of _me_ , he was there because of _me_ , I was the common denominator in something that could have ended in _disaster_. Arch, I can’t -” he halts again, and Archie can feel the muscles in his jaw tighten as he bares his teeth, lips pulled back in a snarl, flashing fangs to the world to show his conviction. “I cannot lose you. _I will_ _not lose you_. And this may seem like something small, some little hate-fueled rant and a near-miss, bloody knuckles and adrenaline, but it speaks to what I thought was _safe_. I was _wrong_ , I was _so wrong_ , and what if _none_ of what I'm doing with the Serpents matters? What if I'm doing _no good_? What if I had all these grandiose plans to change lives for the better in this small pocket of hell, turn people around, and it _fucking failed_? What if all I did was lure you into the lion’s den?” He laughs, a harsh, brittle sound. “Led you into the snake pit by the hand like a fucking siren song to drag sailors to their deaths? What if I _doomed_ you, Archie Andrews? What then?”

Archie squeezes him once before gently spinning him around, taking Jughead's face in his hands. “Take a deep breath, Jug.” It's all he can say as he processes the content of those words. “In and out.”

Jughead nods, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing in deeply, holding it a moment and then releasing it in a long, steady stream of air, opening them to focus on Archie's face.

Archie waits until some of the mania in those eyes subsides, going back to low tide. “First off, Jughead Jones, I can assure you that you haven't doomed me. I did that myself last summer, remember?” There's a gentle levity there even with the heaviness of his words. “And I'm still here. You're still here. After everything that's happened, we're both still standing. We are stronger than you think. Look at all these cards we've been dealt and where we are now. We know how to _survive_ , Jug, and we're going to keep doing it come hell or high water.”

Jughead nods but it's shaky, his eyes faintly moist.

_“Second off, I do believe you've done some good with the Serpents. They're _happier_ , Jug. I've seen it every time I've helped them out. Well,” he pauses thoughtfully, “Except for Clyde’s faction, if it exists, but fuck those guys. That aside, you've helped more of them try to clean themselves up. More of them have gone to rehab or started adult school than had you not taken over. You stopped their descent. You made their lethal absence of hope a little more tolerable, no longer lethal at all. And if you don't believe me, start asking around. They’ll tell you.” _

He pauses, running a thumb along one cheekbone. “So if you don't believe me, believe _them_ . They're grateful. You gave them a lantern in that darkness. But here's the thing: you were never going to be able to fix all of it, or all of them. That's not possible. And I need you to understand that. Please listen to me: _it is not your job to save the world_ . You can't help _everyone_ , you can't fix _everything_ , and you can't carry that burden. You just can't. You can't save everyone. But you can save a few. I sincerely believe you've already done that.”

 

Jughead's staring at him, dumbstruck or possibly confused.

 

“So yeah, it's still hell, but they're no longer in the ninth ring. They're up toward the first. The rest is up to them. People can only get better and heal if they really _want_ to, and you, Jughead Jones, should know this better than everyone else.”

 

He presses his forehead against Jughead's, locking eyes with him. “Okay? We're both still here, and I'll be with you. I know you want to change the world, Jug, it's what I love about you, but you need to know that it's _more_ than ok if all you do is just save _yourself_."

 

Jughead's brow furrows, processing the redhead's words. But he's stuck on that one word, so loud in his own head that it's nearly pushed out the rest of them.

 

“You…love me?” The words are soft, confused, almost timid.

 

That makes Archie laugh softly, pulling back a bit. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

 

Jughead doesn't answer, _can't_ answer, just shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“Let me say it again, then,” he murmurs, pulling the other boy closer. “I love you, Jughead Jones.”

 

“Really?” Now it's starting to hit him, making him feel dizzy, a kind of levity that fizzes in his veins and makes his bones shake.

 

“Yes. I followed you into hell, right? That's love. You needed me and you terrified me and I knew I needed to go with you.”

 

“I _terrified_ you?” Now the suggestion of a smile makes itself known.

 

“You were quite convincing at first, Jug,” Archie chuckles.

 

The smile grows. “Tell me again.” His voice is soft, almost shy, but he gets closer and puts his arms around the redhead's neck.

 

Archie wraps his arms around his waist, shivering slightly from the glide of the water. “I love you.” The words are pressed against his lips in soft puffs.

 

Jughead kisses him, and Archie feels a soft fluttering in his chest, just between his ribs.

 

“Again,” Jughead demands softly, and Archie grins against his lips.

 

“I love you.” This time his words are pressed against Jughead's cheek, his jaw, his neck. The dark-haired boy feels those words riding on the backs of kisses as they sink into his skin. Archie pulls back just enough to grin at him, foreheads together again.

 

“Do you want me to show you?” It's a murmur, soft like clouds and refracting light, warmth. Jughead grins back, nodding.

 

“Show me how much you love me, Archie Andrews.” It's a soft command that's laughed as Archie surges forward, kissing down his neck, his shoulder.

 

“If that's what the Serpent King commands…” Archie hums against his pulse, pulling back suddenly and standing up, stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel. He reaches out his other hand to pull Jughead up and out, wrapping it around the other boy and drying him off, reaching down quickly to drain the tub.

 

“What am I, six?” Jughead laughs as Archie tousles it through his hair, pulling the droplets from the dark strands.

 

“I _sincerely_ hope not. You'd have been six for a decade.” Archie hangs up the towel and grabs another one, drying himself off next. When he pulls it away from his face he sees Jughead pushing the hair off his own forehead, smile crookedly pulling up one corner of his mouth. “What?” he asks, reaching out to hang up his towel, too. Jughead takes his hand when he's done, lifts it up to inspect the bruised knuckles, the ripped and slightly swollen flesh before gently pressing his lips to them.

 

When he looks back at Archie his face is more solemn, something pulling his eyebrows down a bit as he swallows. “I love you, too.”

 

There must be stars in each of Archie's eyes, that's the only explanation Jughead has for how bright they are, how they exude a glow that lights up his whole body, grin pulling wide and free, giddiness in his face. “I know.” he says simply, like being reminded of common knowledge.

 

“Did you just _Star Wars_ me? Don't get cocky, kid.” Jughead rolls his eyes, seriousness gone, banished out by the light that Archie's leaking into his skin, filling his body with warm air.

 

“Just wasn't hard to guess.” Archie laughs, tugs his hand to pull Jughead closer, nosing under his ear. “Can you tell me again?”

 

“Greedy.” Jughead tilts his head to the side, reaches out a hand to bump fingers up the other boy’s ribs.

 

“You love it.” The grin is pressed to his skin now, and Jughead can't help the laugh that breaks free from his throat.

 

“Yeah. I guess I do, huh?” Archie kisses up his neck, pausing before his lips. “I love you,” Jughead repeats, slow and deliberate, the words almost a delicate sigh. Archie shivers, and Jughead watches his eyelids droop, heavy with pleasure, before he kisses him again.

 

“Again,” Archie breathes against his lips, “for luck.”

 

Jughead walks them out of the bathroom, down the hall, into Archie's room and towards the bed. It's sideways and it makes them laugh but when they're there, the dark-haired boy lets himself fall back on the bed, beckoning once again with a finger. Archie grins and follows, feeling one of Jughead's long arms wrap around him, his other hand splaying itself against his cheek.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs, tracing Archie's face with his eyes, warmth from the other boy anchoring itself within him.

 

Archie’s grin goes Cheshire big, kissing him again.

 

“And weren't you going to show me how much you loved me?” Jughead tries to say it with a straight face after they part for air but just can't.

 

“Now who's greedy?” It's murmured against his neck, his jaw, gentle nips forcing a soft sound from Jughead's throat.

 

“Why don't we just admit that it's both of us?”

Archie looks up at him. “The Serpent King suggesting humility and moderation?” He says with a mock gasp of surprise, and Jughead just laughs.

 

“Maybe his queen is changing his mind.”

 

“ _Prince,”_ Archie huffs, going back to his work of making those gentle nips not so gentle, expanding the map unfolding in faded tones there on Jughead's neck.

 

“You're my queen and that's final,” Jughead laughs, then gasps when Archie growls against his skin, teeth bracketing over his collarbone in sharp pinches.

 

“Never,” Archie replies, and Jughead can feel his smile burning into his flesh. “But I guess I love you enough to put up with it.” His eyes are glowing when he looks up at Jughead in a way the dark-haired boy has never seen.

 

“You guess?”

 

“I guess,” Archie hums, lacing one hand with Jughead's, the other meandering down his chest, down to his hips. Trailing fingers through the sparse hair there under his navel. The rasp of those calluses against his skin makes Jughead squirm. It's lazy and exploratory, running his hands along his hips and hip bone and flank. Jughead watches, mesmerized, at how that hand spans so much skin and muscle and bone, tracing old bruises like dried flowers. How their skin tones are different (olive against alabaster), how muscle collects itself on their bones (bulky versus lithe), red hair and black.

 

The feeling of being _different_ but the same.

 

Jughead runs a hand through bristly hair. “A solar eclipse and a lunar eclipse,” he murmurs, almost to himself, a story forming itself in his head.

 

Archie looks up at him, lips still against his skin near his navel. “High and low tide,” he answers after a moment, recognizing that look in Jughead's eye.

 

Jughead grins, a blush rising to his cheeks, bringing Archie up for a kiss. “Mountains and the sea.”

 

_All of these things. They're us, they're you and me._

 

“Fire and water.”

 

“Black and white.”

 

“Digital and analog.”

 

Archie laughs, kissing him again. “Cats and dogs. You're ridiculous, Jug. What is this, an extra credit writing assignment?”

 

Jughead pulls back, eyebrows raised in self-defense. “ _Excuse_ you, I don't need extra credit. I'm disappointed, Archie.”

 

Archie rolls his eyes. “A thousand apologies.”

 

“Doesn't sound convincing.”

 

Archie just barks a laugh, kissing him. “I'll just have to make it up to you.”

 

“Weren't you supposed to be showing me how you loved me before you started dragging me for my poetic talent?” Jughead runs blunt nails down Archie's back, his own tiny revenge.

 

“Can't concentrate on showing you my love if you're spewing opposite superlatives, Juggie.”

 

Jughead just lifts his head and lets it hit the pillow. “I just came for a good time and I feel so attacked right now,” he says to the ceiling. The other boy snickers against his chest.

 

“Okay, okay,” Archie relents, “Fine. You win.” He drags a lax open mouth down Jughead's chest, against his hip bones, teeth closing in on them _hard._ It makes the dark-haired boy whimper, hands going into Archie's hair and tugging, the noise only getting louder as he laves his tongue against those brand new bruises.

 

More kisses and tiny bites have Jughead squirming in his grip, watching him continue his exploration further south. “Arch…”

 

Archie looks up at him for a moment. “This really _is_ worship this time, Jug. I want you to feel it.”

 

“What?” The question is panted at him.

  
“How I love you.” Archie noses at a thigh, gently pulling them apart. He runs that open mouth over the muscles in Jughead's inner thigh, smiling as the other boy groans.

“Is this going to be another purposefully slow evening of you trying to get me to beg?”

 

“Not _trying_ , I succeeded. But no.” He grazes the area with teeth, just a hint, not the firm presses and tugs they're used to, and the softness of it makes Jughead jump a bit with hitched breath, hands carding through Archie's hair.

 

“Another competition you're going to _cheat_ at?”

 

“No.”

 

“Really?” Jughead sounds skeptical, and Archie looks up to find the other boy with raised eyebrows. “So you're just going to fuck me, then?”

 

Archie smiles again. “No.”

 

“I _knew_ it, goddamnit Arch -”

 

Archie leans back up Jughead’s body, stretching out his chest and lining them up together, those opposites attracting like magnets, crashing and colliding together. “I'm not going to _fuck you_ , Jug. I'm going to make love to you.” He lowers his head slowly, taking in all of the boy below him before kissing him, soft and thorough and lazy.

 

When he pulls back, Jughead's eyes are darker, blush across his cheekbones to match the new pink of his kiss-swollen lips. “Are we in a harlequin romance novel?”

 

“No, we'd have to fuck against the wall like savages. Also I think Fabio’s contractually obligated to be there.”

 

Jughead laughs, sliding one hand down from Archie's hair to glide across his face, tracing freckles and the slope of his nose, the cupid’s bow of his lip, before settling under his chin to tug him in for another kiss. “Alright, then. Make love to me.”

 

Archie laughs again after they break apart for air. “We can save the wall fucking for another day.”

 

“Maybe for Valentine's Day. That's romantic, right?” Jughead snickers.

 

“If I buy you dinner I think it counts, yeah.” Archie's eyes glow in the light of the room and he drops a kiss over Jughead's heart before going back to what he'd been doing, switching to the other thigh.

 

_I want you to feel everything that I feel for you._

 

He follows the natural line of muscle with small kisses and tiny nips - the idea of bites instead of actual ones - licking at the places where Jughead's legs join his torso and back down again with more kisses and bites. He can feel Jughead's hands weaving themselves back into his hair, gentle tugs and soft whimpers and a shifting of hips at each kiss, each bite. There would be no bruising there tonight, just flushing. By the time Archie's done with them they're already trembling.

 

Jughead's hands are shaking when they pull Archie up for more kisses, soft groans being swallowed down by the redhead, arms around his neck. This is new, this laser-like focus, without the usual chorus of pleas and begging from one partner. The silence that's surrounding them like clouds or steam makes time stop, makes every minute bit of sound audible in the room.

 

Nevertheless, Jughead makes his case again.

 

“Please, Arch.” He's biting his lower lip, searching those big brown eyes looking into his.

 

Archie nods, forehead against Jughead's, hands cupping his cheeks. He leaves long enough to rummage around in his nightstand, finding what he needs. “Will you stay the night?”

 

“I'll text the foster family after.”

 

“Good. I've never just woken up beside you without remembering to put on clothes and sneak home.” Archie smiles at him, slicking up his fingers and rearranging himself a bit farther down. He keeps his eyes on Jughead as he eases a finger in, the curl pulling a shaky exhale from the other boy, fingers in his hair shaking faintly. Archie takes his time, watching the minute facial expressions, the changes in breathing and body movements, focusing wholly on the careful winding of the boy below him.

  
“More,” Jughead's request is a soft pant, nails against the back of Archie's head, and he acquiesces immediately, pushing in a second finger and stretching out. As Jughead whines, Archie leans down on a whim and licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, grinning at the loud curse, the sudden quick jerking of hips. “ _Fu-uck, Archie -"_

“Couldn't help myself.” The purr returns, a soft reminder of true natures and delicious promise.

Jughead just glares at him, then breaks down, pulling him up for kisses that drown them both, making them both gasp when they finally surface for air. He can feel the redhead's grin against his lips the entire time. “ _More_.” Jughead's voice is lower this time, the word softly snarled, sinking nails into one of Archie's shoulders. The redhead groans, stretching him out, fingers curling to hit that spot, bending Jughead up with a high keen, hips rolling in a wave. “Do you want slow or do you want to be a tease, Arch?” Jughead breathes against his lips when he's back down, legs falling open to get more.

“I want you,” he murmurs, soft and reverent and sure, and Jughead shivers.

Jughead’s got a reply ready, eyes flashing with heady mirth, but Archie pulls his fingers out quick and instead he gasps, fingers pressing into the redhead’s shoulders. The other boy runs a hand over himself and goes back to slow, easing inside Jughead inch by inch, causing shockwaves and tumultuous weather in the dark-haired boy, hips craning up to take him faster, neck stretched back and mouth open in a pant. Archie grins, leans up as he’s gliding in to drag lips over that neck, the same softness in his kisses, open-mouthed and lazy.

“Archie, you're _killing_ me,” Jughead groans, fingers skittering down his back to press in at the divots, trying to urge him in faster, deeper, scrabbling at his shoulder blades.

“And what a way to go,” Archie laughs against his skin, a little hoarse.

Jughead can feel heat rising, blood rising to the surface of his skin, as if the other boy is willing a tide change within him. Part of that terrifies him, what a terrible kind of witchcraft to have, to be able to affect someone like that.

What a _wonderful_ kind of witchcraft to have.

Soon Archie is fully seated within him, hips flush against Jughead's. Archie's trying to breathe, and Jughead grins even though it hurts just the slightest bit, rotates his hips, trying to tempt movement.

It makes Archie choke. “Jug - “

“What a way to go, right?” His purr is soft, hips going the speed of hardening amber. “You want slow, I'll give you slow.”

He shakily looks up at Jughead with a small smile, finally able to breathe, and his reply is a thrust that's hard, deep, slow. Jughead whines, trying to take him a bit more quickly. It's a match strike at molasses speed and twice as sweet under his navel, above his tailbone.

Jughead's nails rake down his back, going just as hard and deep, making the redhead arch against him, forcing him a little deeper by reflex.

“ _Fuck_ , Jug - “

Jughead leans up, kissing him. “I love you too, Archie Andrews.” While said with a soft laugh and drenched in fondness, Jughead's eyes shimmer with the echoes of those words.

Archie feels himself melt a bit at those words, at that kiss. Jughead laughs at his expression, love drunk and dreamy.

“I'll never get tired of hearing you say that, Juggie,” Archie murmurs against his throat before withdrawing with a burn so slow it pulls a loud keen from Jughead's throat.

 

“And I'll never tire of saying it. Well. Maybe if you don't kill me first with your speed here.”

 

“Worship, remember?”

 

“No, you just want to hear me be - _fuck,_ ” Jughead can't even finish his sentence because Archie's moving again, and he feels his spine bending, a long whine being drawn out that he can feel in his teeth. He tilts his hips upward, trying to trap Archie between his thighs but failing, and a soft, frustrated growl is released as a result.

 

Archie snaps his hips in one clean roll, making the boy beneath him louder. “Your god wants to worship you, Juggie. Why won't you let him?”

 

“If by _worship_ you mean _torment_ I'd say I'm already letting him.” It's panted back at the other boy, voice on the edge of breaking. Archie grins and Jughead can feel it against his skin, pressed against him like a tattoo. The hips slow again, one of Archie's palms on Jughead's thigh to push him open wider, the slow burn feeling so deep within him that his mouth hangs open, neck bared and head back.

 

“See? It feels so _good_ to be taken care of, to be worshipped and loved.” Archie's words are low, a tone Jughead feels more than he hears, and he pushes up against his shoulders. When Archie rears back to look at him Jughead makes his move, Archie's larger bed making it easier to shift the larger boy below him and kneel over his hips.

 

His first slide down is slow, but only to feel that ache the whole way through, that deepness inside, that _fullness_. Archie's groaning by the time he's seated fully, and Jughead's grin is wicked, pleased. “Love me from down there.”

 

A long-suffering sigh in reply. “You're lucky I love you, period.” Though Archie's words are a little more hoarse than they were moments ago. His hands curl around the other boy’s hips.

 

Jughead's hips snap, serpentine. “I thought you wanted to worship me, Arch?” He purrs, grin growing wider at how Archie nearly chokes on his tongue.

 

“Yeah,” the redhead pants back, “but at my own pace.”

 

Jughead laughs, feeling all of that molasses and honey melting and dripping down his spine, flowing into his hips and thighs. “At least you finally admitted it.”

 

Archie glares at him, letting his palms skim down to Jughead's thighs, widening them, pushing up _hard_ into the other boy. It makes Jughead's laugh turn into a keen, makes him bite his lip and sigh and snap his hips again.

 

He opens his eyes, and smiles, reaching down and cradling Archie's face in his palms. “I love you,” he murmurs, eyes searching his.

 

Archie surges up against him, kissing him with an open mouth. “Say it again,” he murmurs with a dizzy smile.

 

“I love you,” Jughead presses the words against his lips, hips rolling and tightening and making the redhead gasp, “so very much, Queen Archie.”

 

 _“Prince_ ,” Archie grinds out, somewhere between a groan and a mutter. But he's smiling, and he's never been happier.

 

Jughead straightens back up, swiveling his hips. “I'll go ahead and appease you this one time, _my prince_ ,” running his fingers down a cheek as Archie whimpers, “I'm yours.”

 

“I knew you'd come around eventually.” Archie's laugh is airy, vaguely delirious in the way his grin sits crooked on his face, and Jughead rocks forward, trying to find the right angle. Archie's hands cradle his hips, surging up with each twist and bend, and he knows he's found it when Jughead cries out, eyes shut tight, lips parted, panting, fingers shaking on Archie's chest.

 

“ _Christ_ , fuck -”

 

“There?” Archie's expression is slightly awed, amazed at the boy above him. His breath hitches watching the dark-haired boy.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Jughead's breath is all rolling stones, and Archie firms his grip to make sure he hits that spot on every stroke, sparing one to bring Jughead’s lips back to his.

 

“I love you,” he pants against him, and Jughead whimpers, kisses sloppy and fingers trembling.

 

“ _Again_ ,” Jughead begs, everything shaking. When he opens his eyes and looks at the boy below him, his pupils have nearly swallowed his irises in want.

 

“I love you.”

 

Jughead's not sure if it's the words or the motion that send him over the edge or both, just that he's holding Archie's face with one hand as he comes, name breathed against his parted lips with a gasp.

 

Archie soon follows, Jughead coiled so tightly around him that he can't help but be dragged along by his tide, a moon orbiting in reverse. Jughead's name is on his tongue, an endless rosary he never wants to stop saying.

  
Jughead very gingerly dismounts, Archie collecting him against his chest, lips on the crown of his head. They're both completely soaked with sweat, both trembling still, five minutes after.

 

“Wow.” It's all Jughead can say. He's never felt something that ripped right through him like that before, ever. The boy holding him has so much power over him, and while the Jughead that came before the Serpent King would've been terrified and running for the hills, the Serpent King was still scared but gladly handing this prince of a boy his whole heart.

 

Archie kisses the top of his head, looking at his own still shaking fingers. “Jug, I've never…” He clears his throat, “it's never been that intense for me before.”

 

Jughead's gaze is fuzzy but he manages to focus it. “Really?”

 

“Yeah.” He takes Jughead's hand and places it against his heart. “Feel that.”

 

Jughead closes his eyes and feels a heart that hasn't stopped racing and a hand that's still shaking. “I did that?” He asks, looking at the other boy.

 

That makes Archie laugh. “Yeah, Jug. You did. That's all you.”

 

Jughead grins, kissing him. “Good. I can't wait to do it again.”

 

“And again?”

 

“I meant it when I said I was yours.” Jughead's purr has returned, spreading himself over the redhead like a blanket.

 

“And I meant it when I said I love you.” Archie strokes his back and smiles when that purr gets louder, more contented.

 

A big, happy grin nearly cracks Jughead's face. “I love you - ”

 

“I know.”

 

“Stop _Star Wars_ -ing me, nerd. I was going to add, ‘and I can't wait to get you off in a similar fashion’ but now I'm considering retracting that statement.”

 

Archie's grin spreads. “It was good?”

 

Jughead laughs. “Not that we need your ego to get any larger but yes, Arch. The best so far and your king is exceedingly pleased.”

 

Archie huffs a soft laugh and they fall into a contented silence, hearts slowing and eyelids drooping. It's several minutes later that Archie speaks again, his brain replaying all the pained and fervent words Jughead spoke in the bath.

 

“You know you didn't ‘lure me’ anywhere, right?” He says softly, turning slightly to touch his face to the top of Jughead's head. The other boy stills a bit, breathing paused, before resettling slowly.

 

“Didn't I?”

 

Archie shakes his head. “It speaks to taking someone somewhere against their will. That wasn't me, Jug. I wanted to go with you, to be with you.”

 

Jughead's quiet, and Archie can see him digesting the words, testing them against the self-deprecation he still has.

 

“You didn't steal me, or corrupt me, or turn me. Not really. I just wanted you, I knew what I was doing.” He runs his fingers up Jughead's spine, cards them through his hair before trailing back down soothingly.

 

“So I'm not the devil, huh?” There's a small smile on Jughead's face, bashful in the corners and tentative in its execution.

  
“Oh, I wouldn't go that far,” Archie snickers softly. “I know...I know you're scared about me getting hurt, or having to go through shit you went through, but I'm scared for you, too. And maybe that's just how this works, loving someone. Being protective and standing by them and going with them into the dark places. Maybe it just means never being alone.”

There's another few beats of silence. Jughead turns his head and props his chin on Archie's chest, eyes not wary or scared or manic, but contemplative. “When did you get so deep?” He teases, smiling a bit more.

 

Archie laughs. “Alright, _ouch_. Maybe I've just been reading some of those dead guys you literally never shut up about.” Jughead snorts, turning his face to the side as the smile quirks larger. Archie raises a tentative hand and runs a thumb over the other boy's cheek. “Am I making sense?”

 

“Yeah.” Jughead lets out his breath in a sigh. “It's just…” He pauses, swallowing, eyes flicking over various points in Archie's room. “It's one thing to fear something, to create these situations in your head and freak yourself out, these terrible things that might not ever happen, and it's another to be faced with one and realize suddenly that the only thing they all had in common was that _you_ were in them, Arch. I was just making up different scenarios where you got hurt and I couldn't _do_ anything. That's my biggest fear.” The words are so soft, a hushed admission, baring his soul in silence.

 

Archie's heart constricts, and he waits until Jughead settles his eyes back on his before speaking. “You know that's mine, too, right? I want you _safe_. And today...today was the exception, not the rule. There are bound to be setbacks, but no one was hurt and you dealt with the issue. And rather well, I might add. That's all you can ask for. If anything else pops up,” he shrugs, “then we deal with it.”

 

“Together?” Jughead murmurs, and Archie's smile is bright again.

 

“Together.”

 

The smile returns to Jughead’s face, and he lays his head back down on Archie's chest. “Alright.” He stretches out one hand to link theirs together, pulls it close to rove eyes over their joined fingers. “I guess that wouldn't be so terrible.”

 

Archie laughs again, the air less heavy. “Go to sleep, I think you're too tired to be human anymore.”

 

Jughead hums in reply and the quiet settles back in, Archie's eyelids drooping until he closes them and starts to drift.

 

“I love you.” He hears Jughead say softly, and knows that his reply is the last thing he murmurs before falling asleep.

  


It takes two tries to get them awake.

 

The first time Fred knocks, going into Archie's room, he finds both boys still in each other's arms, dead to the world. Something softens in him, seeing that, and lets them sleep.

 

The second time, both boys are just starting to open their eyes, grinning at each other. It's the best Jughead's ever slept, and the first time in months, possibly since Jason's murder that Archie's slept so well.

 

They're curled into and against each other when Fred knocks next. He can tell they're not really awake and he smiles.

 

“Waffles and coffee downstairs, boys. And if you have to make me come up here a third time, well, the coffee will be gone - “

 

And Jughead's up like a shot, trying to find his boxers from his place there on the bed. Archie laughs with his entire being. “Sorry, Dad. We'll be down in a sec.”

 

Fred laughs too, shaking his head, taking his leave.

 

Jughead finds his boxers and hops into them, kissing Archie after. Archie grins into the kiss, almost successful in dragging the other boy back into bed.

 

“We in trouble?” Jughead raises an eyebrow.

 

Archie's sigh is heavy as he finds his own boxers. “Not sure. He was concerned with us wearing the jackets last night, I think. So I'm guessing it's about that.”

 

“Well, guess he's just going to have to hear the whole story, isn't he?” Jughead doesn't look thrilled about it, Archie can see it in his shoulders.

 

Archie grabs a shirt. “At least there’ll be coffee,” he says after putting it on, kissing Jughead's cheek.

 

The dark-haired boy sighs, putting on his own shirt. “At least there's that,” he concedes.

  


At first, breakfast (closer to brunch) is tense. When Fred makes it clear he won't be tackling the matter immediately, Jughead's shoulders drop and he breathes a little easier. Fred watches, concern etched in the lines on his forehead.

 

When everyone is done and dishes are rinsed, they sit back down again, each with a fresh mug of coffee. Jughead's been drinking it the way he always does: ferociously, with a hint of desperate, as if it'll lengthen his life. The silence is a little uneasy, Fred leaned back in his chair with both hands around his mug, gaze flicking between the two boys. Archie's trying not to fidget, and Jughead's frown is the one he used to wear often in public: mild discomfort mixed with unease.

 

“So,” Fred sighs, and pulls his arms back to cross them over his chest. “Why don't you boys just tell me what's been happening? Jug, you moved away. Archie, you looked like hell. Then you tell me you've had a fight with the girls, and then you come home with a set of bloody knuckles and a Serpent jacket. Not to mention Jug wearing one, too.” Fred’s eyes are calm, his voice one of parental authority. Archie recognizes it immediately and sits a little straighter, and he looks over to see Jughead’s ears turning a faint shade of pink. He remembers suddenly how awful the other boy always felt when Fred had ‘a talk’ with him, be it about trouble at school or trouble at home, and Archie reaches out under the table to link their hands. “I feel like I'm missing a couple key steps there, and I think it's important now that I know what they are.”

 

Jughead squeezes Archie's hand hard under the table and Archie squeezes just as hard back. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes a moment while he collects himself. Fred waits.

 

“A few nights after my father was arrested, the Serpents came to call.”

 

Fred nods. “Go on.”

 

“They had his jacket. They were happy he hadn't snitched on anyone, that he was family because of it. And that family took care of their own.”

 

“Meaning you.” It's not a question, and Jughead confirms it with a nod.

 

“Yes. They said they'd take care of me. That was the night before I found out that social services had uprooted me. I took the jacket, and tucked away that information for later. I was hoping I'd never have to use it. And then, they took me and placed me with my foster family. Who are treating me well, by the way.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Fred nods again. “And let me guess - you decided to take the Serpents up on their offer.”

 

Jughead doesn't meet his eyes. “I was so upset. Everything had changed - it felt like I'd had everything I loved taken away from me. That I was being punished - “ The dark-haired boy takes a deep, shuddering breath and Fred frowns, waiting for him to gather himself once more.

 

Archie’s heart contorts in his chest. He doesn't interrupt, just keeps holding Jughead's hand, squeezing it every so often.

 

“It felt like the end of the world. So after my first week at Southside, I went to the Wyrm, asked what the offer was. They needed a new leader now that my father was gone for the foreseeable future. They didn't want to give it to anyone else, they said. Just me, because that's what my father had wanted. Those were his wishes. I didn't really get it, I mean I'm _sixteen_. Who would want a kid as their leader? But I couldn't ask that.”

 

Jughead looks at Fred now in the eye. “I was so miserable that I immediately said yes. But I made conditions that had to be met within the first few weeks, or I was out. First, no more law breaking, if they could help it. I tried to get information on what they'd been involved in, and put a stop to it. Banished the ones who refused. Second, whoever had a substance abuse problem had to go to rehab, or at least start the process, with proof of progress or they were out. Third, everyone had to help out at the Wyrm a few times a week with rotating positions. The ones in rehab or active treatment were the only ones not allowed to be there, so I had them do other stuff. Errands, and so forth.”

 

Fred leans his chin on his palm, listening carefully. “How did that go?”

 

“Smoother than I'd anticipated, to be completely honest. I didn't have to throw too many out. After Cheryl’s dad's role in things came out, so many of them were ready to change. And they've been doing well.” His voice takes on a tone of fierce pride, and he surprises himself with it. “Only a few have fallen off the wagon. But they're trying again. One more chance before they're out for good.”

 

“And then?”

  
“It was all a good distraction. But after Joaquin left, there were no other Serpents our age. I was reminded everyday that Archie, and Betty, and Veronica and the others weren't there. And it hurt. It was a wound that refused to heal. And while my foster family was… _is_ nice…”

“It's not the same.” Another confirmation. Jughead nods.

 

Archie is reminded of a line from _Lolita_ , which Jughead had been taking great pleasure in reading to him as of late (in between rants about how it truly was the great American novel, in spite of its subject matter):

 

_The poison was in the wound, you see. And the wound wouldn't heal._

 

“Not even close. And Southside's got some great kids, but it's just not the same. It's not _them_. So I withdrew from everyone here. It seemed easier at the time.”

 

Fred leans back in his chair. “It's all coming together now, in terms of timing.” He looks at his son for a moment, remembering how very miserable he was.

 

“And then I ran into him one night a few weeks ago at Pop's,” Archie takes over, “and we started meeting up. He took me to the Wyrm, showed me what he'd done. He's actually making a difference, Dad.” He spares a glance at his boyfriend with a small proud smile. “So I decided to help out. And while I did, I talked to them. They all seemed pretty honestly pleased with his changes.”

 

Fred’s quiet now, just listening patiently, and he nods at Archie to continue. “You could see what they could be, all they wanted to do. They're just _people_ , Dad, productive members of society. It was...eye-opening. Everyone sorta paints the south side as this mess, this...this _stain_ on the town, but it's not really like that. Or if it is, it doesn't really have to be.”

 

Fred’s sigh sounds ages old to Archie, like this is a discussion he's had too many times to count, and he looks down at the table. “I know,” he says softly. Archie waits a moment before continuing, mainly because he's not quite sure how to explain the next bit. Jughead's hand squeezes his under the table again and he glances over, finds the other boy nodding at him.

 

“So I started spending more time with...with the Serpents,” he hedges, and Fred looks back up at him with a faintly amused expression.

 

“You mean Jughead.” His tone brooks no argument, but Archie can see him smiling. He feels the heat in his cheeks and fights the urge to scratch nervously behind an ear.

 

“I...yeah.”

 

“Archie,” Fred starts, laughing suddenly. Archie blinks, confused, and looks over to see Jughead much the same. “You understand I didn't want to talk to you both about your _relationship_ , right?” He's still laughing, soft chuckles that break up some of the tension in the room, and Jughead raises his eyebrows.

 

“You...didn't? I figured it was going to be one big grilling session about what I was doing and who I was doing it with -” Archie freezes, realizing what he's said, eyes wide and panicked, only to hear Jughead snickering beside him now.

 

“Good job, Arch,” he mutters under his breath, squeezing his hand again.

 

Fred rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Well. Barring the fact that I didn't really need to know that much, no.” He gives Archie an exasperated look. “You two dating isn't really a surprise. More like...inevitability or something.” He waves a hand. “I'm actually surprised it took this long, but that's still not the point.” He smiles again, and nods at Archie. “What happened next?”

 

Archie's still trying to reset his brain, thoughts mildly scattered, and Jughead picks up the story. “Veronica saw us one day over at the Wyrm. Archie hadn't told them yet about...us, and I still wasn't really speaking to them. It just seemed…”

 

“Easier to burn the bridges than wait for them to fall, you thought.” Fred supplies, tone soft, and Jughead swallows, nodding.

 

“It wasn't pretty. She was furious, and rightfully so.”

 

“I finally got to talk to her and Betty a few days after, try and smooth things over. It's not perfect, but I think it might be getting better. I hope.” Archie frowns, eyebrows scrunched together.

 

“Good.” Fred nods. “Was that the day you told me?”

 

“I told you the day before they let me speak to them.”

 

“Hmm. You looked pretty rough.”

 

“Yeah, that's what they said. I think it's why they let me try and apologize.”

 

Fred nods again, swings his gaze over to Jughead. “And you? Did you talk to them yet?”

 

Jughead’s mouth tilts down in a contrite frown, and he fidgets slightly on his chair, fingers of his free hand tracing the rim of his mug. “Not...not yet.”

 

“But you're _going_ to?” Fred raises an eyebrow.

 

“Yes. I miss them, too.” Archie runs his thumb over Jughead's knuckles, a soothing sweep.

 

“Soon?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright. That covers that, then. Tell me about the fight.”

 

Jughead covers that, his tone vaguely monotonous and bored, a careful mask, as he explains Clyde coming in, the slurs. He fixes his eyes on Fred’s, watching the stormy looks pass over the older man’s face, and Archie holds his hand tightly.

 

“And you hit him?” Fred asks Archie, jaw tight and voice hard.

 

“Yeah. I just...I saw red, Dad. He was an _asshole_ , and what he was saying to Jug -”

 

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Arch. It's just a shame you only hit him once. I know violence doesn’t solve anything, and I'm supposed to teach you conflict resolution, but…”

  
“You'd have hit him, too?” Jughead asks, voice quiet, and Fred looks over at him with furious eyes, nodding.

“You've always been like a second son, so you bet I would've punched him.”

 

At his words, Jughead flushes, blinking. “Really?”

 

Fred’s smile turns kind. “That can't be a surprise, Jug.”

 

Nevertheless, it is, and it shows on Jughead's face.

 

Fred is lost in his thoughts for a long moment. “Before the alcohol took everything from your father, Jughead, he was much like you. Full of ideas, wanting to make the world better despite the abuse he got everyday being out in it. Aside from Betty's mom, he was one of the only other Southsiders at Riverdale High with us. At least, to my knowledge.”

 

Jughead listens with a laser-like focus, hungry for stories about a father that hadn't yet fallen into his cups. “Yeah?”

 

Fred nods. “Incredibly smart, though I daresay you're far brighter than he was at your age. He was brave and stupid and stubborn as hell. The first two years of high school, he was doing well. And then junior year, something happened. Like a flip that got switched, he joined the Serpents, stopped going to school. Nearly dropped out, though by some miracle, didn't. He never told me what happened.”

 

“But you have an idea?”

 

“I think it was your grandfather. As you know, somewhere in the middle of FP’s childhood, the Jones family lost its fortune. You were nearly, if not more wealthy than the Blossoms before that point. Your father and grandfather were forced to move to Southside, and your grandfather succumbed to alcoholism. He got more abusive, blamed your father and grandmother for his own mistakes and bad luck. I think he died around that time that FP changed, though your dad never really talked about it.”

 

Jughead's mouth hangs open. “Yeah. I think that's about right, actually,” He says dizzily after a moment.

 

Archie stares at him. “You didn't know?”

 

“My father loves to go on about how much he hated his own, and how happy he was when he died at that time. But the rest…” He shakes his head. “He's always made strange, coded references to that but I always thought it was the booze. Now I know…”

 

_It was both._

 

“How did my grandfather….?”

 

Fred's sigh is heavy. “I looked into it, because it was so hard to watch FP go through all of that abuse. The answer depends on who you ask. Hiram Lodge and Clifford Blossom will claim a failed buyout on behalf of the Blossom family, and corruption, respectively. But Forsythe the First always claimed it was stolen from him, sabotaged and engineered to fail on purpose.”

 

“So what you're saying is that all of the people who can actually answer the question are dead or lying.”

 

Fred nods with an even heavier sigh. “Correct.”

 

It explained everything.

 

“FP was a very angry young man, Jug. Far, far angrier than you were, or are. He got arrested for the first time at the end of junior year. He was in and out of Juvie for most of senior year before Prom, and after. Until you came along that next year. He cleaned up his act and we started the company together. Things went from there. Until he hit a rough patch with your mom. And then…”

 

Jughead nods, not needing him to finish. “Things have been up and down ever since.”

 

“Yeah.” Fred squints at him. “He never told you, huh?”

 

“About our riches to rags family fortune? Nope. He made these references but never really told me about it all.”

 

Fred nods, frowning. “I think FP...I think he doesn’t want to dwell on it. It's why he didn't tell me a whole lot of it and I had to find it out elsewhere. Your dad doesn't want to be pitied, Jug, so he just sort of -”

 

“Bottles everything up, refuses to talk about issues, and covers emotions with alcohol and anger. Yeah, I know. It's a great set of genes he gave me.” Jughead's tone is cold, eyes boring a hole through the tabletop. When the silence becomes too much and he looks up, Fred’s eyes are sad, the kind of heartbreak in them that pricks at the backs of Jughead's eyes, and he looks away again. Archie runs his thumb over the other boy's skin again through the death grip he's got on him.

 

There's a few more seconds of quiet again before Fred speaks, his tone soft. “You know I'm proud of you, right Jughead?”

 

Jughead's head snaps up, eyes a bit wide. There's a small amount of panic in the corners, Archie can see, a confusion at the change of situation, words he doesn't hear often. “...what?” He mumbles, coherence lost for a moment.

 

Fred nods, a small smile on his lips. “Both of you boys. You're making mistakes and handling them well. You're trying to do so much good in a place that people only see as bad. You're both growing up, and I'm very…” he pauses, clearing his throat and shuffling a bit on his seat. Archie starts to grin, recognizing his father’s tics for strong emotions. “I'm very proud of my sons.” He says finally, moving his gaze between the two of them.

 

Jughead looks a bit shell-shocked, mouth slightly agape.

 

“But,” Fred continues, “I'm worried. And I have every right to be, so don't try sitting there and telling me _not_ to be. I watched this all before, with FP, and while it could have been _much_ worse, it was still difficult. I didn't really do anything then, and I've regretted it since.” He takes a deep breath and looks out towards the front door, as if wondering if the man in question would step through, or remembering a conversation long past. “I have a second chance now, to look after his kid, mine, to look after _our_ sons. It's exactly what you said, Jughead. You are _sixteen_. There shouldn't be this entire world on your shoulders, there shouldn't be this much danger in your life.” He rubs at his chin, as if perplexed.

 

Archie looks at them both, leaning back in his chair. “So where do we go from here?”

 

Jughead looks down at the table. “I'm not sure what I _can_ do, at this point,” he murmurs, then looks back up at Fred. “Are you going to make me leave the Serpents?”

 

Fred frowns at him, eyebrows pulling in. “I can't _make_ you do anything, and I don't want to have that power over someone. It's your decision of what you want to do, how you want to proceed. Just…” He shifts again, dragging a hand over his face before leaning his arms forward on the table. “Just promise me you'll get out if it's bad. Don't stay over pride or some obligation you think you have. My priority is you two, and if I have to have another one of these talks with you, it will be _much_ less pretty. I trust you,” he says, swinging his gaze from Jughead to Archie, encompassing them both, “to make the right decisions. Please, _please_ , try not to make the wrong ones.”

 

Archie raises his eyebrows, more than surprised. “So...I'm not grounded? Or banned from the Wyrm or anything?”

 

Fred levels him with a look, a heavy sigh. “No, I guess not. Jughead needs someone to look after him, anyway.”

  
Jughead snorts, a surprised sound as his mind empties. This was not - in _any_ scenario - how he thought this would go. He still didn't really have any answers, any next steps, but there’s a strange new hope burrowing in his heart, a tiny voice questioning if maybe everything isn't as awful as he thinks. “I'm…”

“Surprised? Yeah, me too.” Fred murmurs. “I didn't really think I'd be responding this way, either.” A small smile at the boys, and Archie returns it, only a little shaky. “I'm trying to treat you like adults. I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me regret it.” He says drily, and Archie gives a soft laugh. “Keep me updated on things, _frequently_ . No criminal activity whatsoever. Your schoolwork can _not_ be affected by this. Home by eleven on school nights.”

 

“ _Eleven_?” Archie starts to squawk, but Jughead kicks him under the table as Fred raises his eyebrows.

 

“Am I understood?”

 

The boys look at each other and nod.

 

“Yes,” they chorus together, though it wasn't planned.

 

“Good,” Fred grins, waving them off. “Now go enjoy your Saturday, boys.”

 

As they get up to go, “One last thing. Arch? Same rules as when you had girls over. Try to keep it quiet, okay? Please don't make me listen to you two. That's all I ask, for my own sake,” Fred nods toward Jughead with raised eyebrows. Archie turns a spectacular shade of red and Jughead's trying (but failing) not to snicker.

 

“Understood loud and clear, sir.” Jughead salutes the older man.

 

“Make it understood _quietly_ , please.” Fred smirks, and Archie wonders if he can escape through the carpet.

  


When they get back upstairs, Archie's still blushing. Jughead looks immensely pleased, drawing him into a kiss.

 

“That, my queen, could've gone a lot worse,” Jughead murmurs as they surface for air.

 

“ _Prince_ ,” Archie corrects, but it's almost absentminded now. “I guess.” He pulls Jughead with him back down onto the bed. “Having to be home by _eleven_ , though?” He sounds pained.

 

“As I said,” Jughead sighs, rolling on his side and watching the other boy, “Could've been worse. He could've banned you from seeing me or grounded you or both. I'll take a curfew over both of those.”

 

Archie nods. “Yeah,” he finally admits, “you're right - “

 

“And you're only realizing this _now_ , Arch?” Jughead brings him closer.

 

Archie doesn't take the bait. “It could've been worse.” His dark eyes search Jughead's. “How are you feeling about everything you just found out?”

 

Jughead takes a long moment. “I wish I could say that I'm shocked. So many things make a lot more sense now, I feel like. I just wish he'd told me before. I'm not exactly thrilled that I'm having to get this information from your dad, but at least _he_ told me.” He shrugs. “I'm grateful for that, honestly.”

 

“I'm glad he did,” Archie agrees, “You needed to know.”

 

Jughead just nods, searching Archie's face for a short silence. “My question still stands, though. Where do we go from here?”

 

“You might want to start lining things up for your successor, Serpent King,” Archie sighs, “Because now would be the time to get started on that.”

 

Jughead nods, blowing out a breath. “I think that's going to be Mina. I trust her. She's calm in a crisis and takes no shit.”

 

Archie had spent enough time now with her to agree completely. “She's the best choice. You might want to tell her sooner rather than later.”

 

Jughead smiles. “Like prepare a line of succession?”

 

Archie laughs softly. “Yeah. Get your second choice ready, let them know, too.”

 

“You think Clyde was right about a faction?” Jughead's eyes look worried, and Archie pulls him in for a kiss.

 

“I hope not,” he answers, after they pull away. “Though you shamed him publicly and hopefully that sent your message that bigots wouldn't be tolerated loud and clear.”

 

“I hope you're right,” Jughead sighs, curling into the other boy. Archie pulls him close.

 

“I hope I am, too. We can start tomorrow. For today… We never did get to a movie last night.”

 

Jughead grins up at him, “My choice?”

  
  


The next day, Jughead takes Archie's advice and summons Mina to the Wyrm.

 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, boss?” Her purr is low, deep and her smile is sharp. He nods to Archie, who closes the door of the meeting room.

 

“There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it: I'd like you to take over for me should something happen.”

 

She stares at him. “You feeling okay?”

 

“The incident with Clyde kind of highlighted that I don't have a good support structure in place for all of this.” Jughead looks deeply uncomfortable.

 

She leans back in her chair, raising her eyebrows. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

 

“If he were, he'd be a lot more subtle,” Archie chuckles.

 

She smiles at Archie. “Somehow I don't doubt that.”

 

“Hey, peanut gallery.”

 

“Sorry, boss. You were saying?”

 

“I also need a contingency plan, like what kind of event would involve me passing things to you.”

 

“Like if you get arrested?” She lifts a brow.

 

“Well, I'm kinda trying to avoid that, but you have the general idea, yeah.”

 

“So anything that would prevent you from doing your duties, I step in?” She asks, and Jughead nods, eyes flicking over to the door. Mina tilts her head, comprehension dawning on her face. “This isn't an ‘in case’, is it? This is an expiry date you just don't know yet.”

 

Jughead takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh and frowning at the door. “I'm not going to do this forever. And with recent events, it's looking like ‘not forever’ is sooner rather than later. I like what I'm doing, what we're all doing here, and I'm proud to be a part of it, I'm just…”

 

“You deserve a life.” She states plainly, eyes fixed on him and a smile on her face. Jughead meets her gaze and hesitates before nodding once. “I understand. Believe me, I do. We all...well, maybe that's a sweeping generalization, but most of us appreciate everything you've done. Just...maybe this isn't where you're supposed to be.”

 

Jughead's shoulders slump a bit, a mixture of leftover guilt and relief at not having to explain his fears. All of what she was saying was true, anyway, so it seemed moot to bring them up.

  
“Yeah. Like you said, I don't really know when anything would happen, just that it...it will. So I think we should prepare for it, prepare you, and start giving you a few more duties.”  

 

She nods, looking thoughtful. “And I'll gladly take them on. I should've petitioned FP to take over in the first place. Not that you haven't been good, Jug, but you're what? Sixteen?” He nods and she continues, “You have _time_ before all of this can suck you in for good. You need room to grow. And if I may speak freely - “

 

He smiles. She's always been formal and respectful to him, regardless of his age. “Always.”

 

“You've grown since you took over, Jughead. I've watched. But I think you've hit your limit. If you stay here, you won't become who you _need_ to become. I'm not that much older than you, but I can tell you all of this with confidence - I wish someone had said this to me at your age. I wish I'd known then what I know now. And it's not that I regret joining up, but more that I didn't take time to explore options. I had no hope, and I couldn't _see_ it, and no one pointed it out to me.”

 

_The lethal absence of hope._

 

“You don't want that to happen to me.” It's not a question and she nods.

 

“You've had enough of this life, Jughead Jones. It will poison you if you stay here.”

 

“I want to help structure this transition, if you guys will let me,” Archie finally says after a long, quiet moment.

 

Jughead just reaches for his hand. “Together,” is all he says, and Archie nods, just squeezing his hand.

  
  


They get a good start on things that day, spending hours on starting to untangle the knot of responsibilities that Jughead took on as the Serpent King. It isn't until they actually start listing it all does Jughead realize how _much_ he'd committed to.

 

It's at that moment he realizes that this, delegating and making plans for Mina to take over, is _overwhelming_. He keeps a variant of his mask on, but Archie takes his hand under the table, squeezing gently when he sees how tightly Jughead's gripping his pen.

 

Afterward, they part ways - Jughead making an appearance at his foster family's weekly Sunday dinner, Archie going home to finish homework.

 

Both of them playing by the rules for now.

 

Archie texts him later, around 11:30, checking in to see how he's doing.

 

_How was dinner?_

 

_A little tense. Hilariously enough, they wanted to have a variant of Fred’s talk about the Serpents. I was not exactly in the mood._

 

_Yikes. You ok?_

 

There's a bit of pause before Jughead texts back next, and Archie finds his eyelids start to droop a bit before his phone buzzes.

 

_Yeah, I'll be alright. I just told them not to worry and it wasn't permanent. Sorta took the wind out of their sails a bit._

 

Archie's penning a response when another text dings in from Jughead.

 

 _Today was exhausting_.

 

_I know, but we got through it. That has to count for something. Get some sleep, see if you can fondle those faded bruises tomorrow in class._

 

_Hmm. We'll have to do something about that ‘faded’ bit, soon._

 

Archie smiles at his phone, a light shiver running through his bones. _Good night, Jug. I love you._

 

_I love you, too._

 

Archie falls asleep with a smile on his face.

  


Monday.

 

Archie drags himself out of bed, which suddenly feels a lot more empty now without the other boy curled into him at night. It's a lot less easy to get enthused about starting the day without a certain raven-haired Serpent King sprawled out on top of him with sleepy eyes and a wicked smile, waking him with long fingers and a laughing mouth.

 

The first text comes in while Archie’s brushing his teeth. A photo of fading fantasy islands on a pale white sea, corded in places.

 

_They’ve faded even more. :(_

 

Archie almost chokes, feeling a growl brewing deep in his throat.

 

The next photo is all pale yellow and blue shadows in splotches with curves of bone and hollows of skin.

 

_This is distressing._

 

_You trying to kill me?_

 

_Why? Is it working?_

 

He can almost hear Jughead's sly tone.

 

_Possibly._

  
_You'll just have to fix it later after school, won't you?_

_Only after you sit with Mina for your requisite few hours and continue to figure out your line of succession._

_Killjoy._ He can hear the deep frown behind the word.

_Don't be sulky. I'll make waiting worth your while._

He waits for the reply with a smile, bringing his phone back into his room with him to throw on a sweater.

_Really? Any notion of how you'll do that? Care to give me a hint?_

_Nope._

_You're a wicked tease, Archie Andrews._

He takes a quick snap of his own hips, carefully framing it to show off the bone, the faded bruises, the dips in his skin, and a promising shadow. He sends it off with the caption _So are you._

The reply is a simple curse, and Archie imagines the wildness that leaks out of the other boy’s eyes. He grabs his sweater with a shiver, and heads off to class.

The day goes by not quickly enough for Archie, just wanting to be back by Jughead's side. The football crew seems even more intolerable than usual for the day, hooting and shouting and preening over their latest conquests. Reggie keeps asking Archie if he intends on going to a party that night, and Archie keeps sighing, mumbling that he can't, that he has a date.

 

_Save me from Reggie and the guys, for the love of god._

 

A notification beeps on his phone. _I would love to. After showing them who you belong to, of course._

 

Archie feels a shiver building in his molars, almost able to hear that dark silk voice.

 

 _I'm sorry, you said_ I _was a tease?_

 

_Hmm. I suddenly can't seem to recall._

 

Archie's about to reply when a shadow falls over him.

 

“Oh, Archiekins. How the mighty have fallen.”

 

Archie looks up, into Veronica's amused face.

 

“Ronnie - “

 

“That's my name.” Her cat's grin grows. “I'm going to rescue you from these assholes since you can't seem to do it yourself.”

 

Veronica offers out her hand, and Archie takes it, his other hand grabbing his bag. The hollers and hoots follow them all the way back to the table where Betty and Kevin await.

 

“Look who's back,” Kevin chirps and it makes Archie smile.

 

“It's good to be back.” Archie sits by Betty, who smiles at him brightly.

 

“What can I say? I'm a forgiving soul,” Veronica preens as she sits next to Kevin.

 

Archie nods, laughing softly. “That you are,” he nods in agreement. “Thank you.”

 

It makes Veronica glow a little brighter. “Just don't do it again.” There’s a moment between them then, shared looks where Archie is sure his eyes must show a wellspring of emotions: relief, gratitude, shame, sorrow, jubilation. She smiles at him, and he can see the ease in the action, the light that's returned to her face. He feels his heart swell with happiness at her well-being, and wonders if his grin might split his face. She rests her chin on her hand. “How's Juggie?”

 

Archie blushes red hot, not meaning to and hating himself for it. “He's good. He's uh… Yeah.”

 

Kevin sees his expression and pounces. “Holy shit, Archie Andrews. Are you and our sad Serpent King…?”

 

Archie looks to Betty and Veronica. “You _told_ him?”

 

They look at each other. “He uh, might've overheard a few things when we were still mad,” Veronica chuckles, but it's bashful.

 

“Took you two long enough,” Kevin hums.

 

Archie stares at him and Kevin just grins. “My gaydar is very rarely wrong. I _was_ starting to wonder if it was broken, though.” The last sentence is murmured more to himself.

 

“I mean we're not… _I'm_ not entirely gay. I just love him.”

 

“You just _happened_ to fall for him, you mean?” Kevin is leaning forward in interest now, hungry for information.

 

Archie feels strangely exposed, eyes darting between the girls, who seem curious as well.

He scratches the back of his neck, turning redder. “I guess. I mean, I'm otherwise not into guys that way.” His brow furrows. “At least, I don't think I am. To be honest, I've never considered it before. I just liked girls and liked Jug and never...never did anything about it.” He shrugs. “It was really just him.”

 

“Huh. Well, sexuality _is_ fluid, after all.”

 

“You love him?” Veronica's voice is soft, head cocked to the side, but her gaze is open, no anger or sadness there, and Archie nods at her slowly.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

It takes a second, but Veronica's smile is pleased, an honest emotion at watching others find happiness, and Archie feels his shoulders relax in spades, tension falling off them like stones.

 

He looks over to Betty with a sudden quick jerk in his heart, and finds her smile a little more melancholy. He licks his lips, tries to find words to say to offer her some sort of closure, _anything_ , but Veronica beats him to it.

 

“We were hoping you wouldn't mind summoning his grace, asking if he'd deign to speak with us common folk after school today or tomorrow. We still have royal issues to bring up with his highness, you see, even if we're no longer quite so incensed by his right hand man.” Veronica's drawl is a mixture of lightly mocking and a taunt, her eyes flashing once as she inspects her nails with an air of forced boredom.

 

Archie opens his mouth before realizing that his instinct is to reply with ‘ _prince_ ’, and he shuts it with a quick flushing of his cheeks before blinking at Veronica.

 

“I...yeah, of course. I can text him and tell him. He wanted to speak to you guys, too, but I told him to maybe wait until you were done being mad at me. _If_ you were done being mad at me.” He corrects, eyes flicking between both girls.

 

“Not bad advice, actually,” Kevin nods from the sideline.

 

Betty nods. “I understand. I'd just still like to talk to him. We both would, really. We miss him, Archie.”

 

Archie's heart jerks again and he sighs. “I know. If it helps in any way coming from me, and know that it _will_ come from him, too, because it's true, he misses you too. A lot.”

 

Betty's smile is still a little sad, and Archie pulls out his phone quickly to text Jughead.

 

 _So, good news and bad news_.

 

_Oh, fun. Do I get to pick which one I hear first?_

 

 _Nope. Good news first. The girls are done being mad at me_.

 

 _I told you they'd come around, Arch. That's great._ Archie can almost see the other boy’s smile through the words and winces slightly at the knowledge of its imminent deflation.

 

_Yeah, it is. You were right, like you don't hear it enough._

 

_I could always stand to hear it more. Bad news?_

 

_It's your turn._

 

There's a full minute of silence before Jughead's next reply.

 

_Shit._

 

_Yeah. I'll be there, too, but they want to see you after school today or tomorrow. Which do you prefer?_

 

_Much as I'd greatly prefer to rip this band aid off as soon as possible, I think tomorrow is best. I'm kinda full up with Serpent duties today._

 

_Would any of those duties include ‘dreading this confrontation with every fiber of your being’?_

 

_No, but it might include punching a wall or throwing up. Tell them 4pm at Pop's tomorrow._

 

Archie frowns at the screen and looks back up to the others, finds them in a conversation without him while waiting. “Sorry about that. Does 4pm at Pop’s tomorrow work?”

 

“That's fine,” Veronica nods, and Betty mirrors it, chewing thoughtfully at a fry. Archie turns his gaze back to his phone.

 

_That works for them. Also no throwing up, Jug, you're going to be fine. I'll be with you. It's going to be okay._

 

 _Promises, promises._ Archie can't tell if the Serpent King mask is back with his anxiety or if his words are light, said in jest.

 

_I will._

 

_I know._

 

He pauses, frowning, knowing he'll have to calm down the other boy later. His heart hurts, the idea of not being there to comfort Jughead _now_ making him antsy.

 

_I love you._

 

 _I know that, too._ At least Archie knows _those_ are teasing, and he fights a smile as the next text comes in. _You can show me how much you love me later today, my queen._

 

**_Prince._ **

 

_Never. You'll always be my queen, Archie Andrews._

  
  


Archie swaps his letterman for his Serpent jacket after school, bringing his homework to the Wyrm to do while Jughead and Mina continue to parse out successional duties. Occasionally he'll interject with an idea, or an opinion, but otherwise keeps to himself. Jughead seems to be fine with that, seemingly taking comfort from Archie's presence there alone.

  
When they're winding down for the day, Archie gets a text from Fred.

_Drive In project dinner meeting tonight. I've left money for food. You can bring Jug over if you want, just remember the rules._

 

When he shows the text to Jughead, who's trying to get a crick out of his neck, Jughead smiles.

 

“He's really worried about the foster family starving me, isn't he?” Jughead muses as he nods to a departing, exhausted looking Mina.

“He asked me about it after you left, yeah,” Archie chuckles, fingers reaching out to massage his neck. “He's worried. That's a good thing.”

 

The dark-haired boy sighs, soon moving along to the broad circles that the redhead is pressing into the back of his neck. “I know,” he murmurs, but it's warm, affectionate.

 

“Let's go home, and eat, and then we can start prepping for tomorrow. Sound good?”

 

Jughead nods. “Can I stay with you tonight?” His voice is soft, and his eyes are open, vulnerable.

 

“Of course. As long as you don't piss off your foster family my dad should be okay with it.”

 

Jughead pulls out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. A few moments later he gets a reply and smiles. “They thanked me for asking them. Which feels weird but...good. Somehow.” Another ding. “Also they want to meet you, and are asking if you can come to Sunday dinner this week.”

 

“Definitely. I'm down for both.” He kisses Jughead's cheek while the dark-haired boy replies, then pockets his phone.

  


They end up back in the bathtub after dinner, splashing each other like children until they settle, Jughead's head on Archie's shoulder, back to his chest.

 

“Whatever happened to ‘baths at your age’?” Archie chuckles, watching Jughead chase bubbles with his hands.

 

“I _did_ amend that later, saying you occasionally had good ideas, Arch.”

 

“Did you?” Archie grins.

 

“I can't decide if you have selective hearing, memory, or both.” But Jughead's too relaxed to be exasperated, only faintly amused.

 

“Hmm,” Archie hums noncommittally in response, one of his hands that was resting on Jughead's belly skittering up his chest to pinch a nipple.

 

“Asshole,” Jughead hisses in reply and he can feel the redhead laugh with his whole body behind him.

 

“I know. I'm lucky you love me.”

 

“Lucky in love,” Jughead murmurs, voice melodic and sleepy.

 

Archie laughs, running his hands up the length of the other boy’s arms, gently massaging the tops of his shoulders. “Do you know how I know when you're tired? You start spewing old 80s idioms.”

 

“When you're tired, you look like a puppy.”

 

Archie laughs harder, jostling the boy in front of him. “I don't think that's true.”

 

“How would you know? You can't see yourself.”

 

Archie shakes his head, smiling. “How about you just stop talking for now and relax? You're ridiculous.”

 

Jughead hums, head tilting forward to give Archie access to the back of his neck. “That sounds fair.”

 

Archie runs his hands over the other boy’s back, careful and methodical, pulling out knots and tension and stress with careful fingers. Jughead's eyes slip shut and he focuses on turning off his brain, as much as anyone can, nothing but the sounds of the water sloshing slightly as Archie moves, their breaths, and a periodic soft sigh from either of them.

 

Before long, the water has cooled and Jughead opens his eyes, blinking blearily at the tile in front of him. “How did you get so good at this?”

 

Archie huffs a gentle laugh behind him and kisses behind an ear, motioning him forward so he can exit the tub. “I massage my own cramps when I can from football. I got really good at it, and my downtime was pretty low. Even Coach Clayton was impressed, he got me to teach some of the other guys.” He reaches down to pull the other boy up, handing him a towel as he dries himself off.

 

Jughead eyes him with mirth through wet hair, smile curling up his lips as he wraps the towel around his waist. “Massaging other guys, huh? Sure you only have the hots for me, Andrews?”

 

Archie sways forward, hovers his lips over Jughead's without touching before pulling back with a grin and striding out of the bathroom. “Pretty sure,” he calls out over his shoulder.

 

“Hm. Wonder if it's the same for them,” Jughead wonders aloud as they amble back to Archie's room.

 

“Now that I think about it, Reggie _did_ start looking at me more after…”

 

“Moose wouldn't surprise me after that thing with Kevin, but Reggie?” Jughead chuckles, shutting the door to Archie's room behind him. He goes behind Archie, voice at his ear. “Sounds like I have to show him who you belong to.” He gives the other boy's ear an affectionate nip before continuing to the dresser, rooting around for clothes.

 

Archie shivers but tries not to get distracted, pulling on his sweats. “So about the girls…”

 

Jughead doesn't look at him but nods as he fishes out a shirt, showing that he's listening. “Yeah?”

 

“It looks like you're going to need to talk to Betty the most out of the two of them. I mean, you'll definitely need to talk to them both, but you might want to pull her aside.”

 

After Jughead pulls on some boxers he sighs, letting himself fall back on the bed. “Fuck.”

 

“And I don't think I should be there when you pull her aside. I'll be with you before, but… You owe her that much, Juggie. She's still messed up over everything. I know if I'm there while you do that, it might make things worse.”

“Damn your logic,” the dark-haired boy mutters after a moment, considering his words. Archie sits on the bed next to him, looking down on his troubled face. He runs fingers along Jughead's forehead, down his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

 

“You might want to think about what to say to her.”

 

Jughead looks at him, taking his hand, kissing knuckles that are still healing. “I imagine it's going to be a lot of what I said to you. That I just couldn't be there anymore, that it hurt too much. That I was a coward - “

 

“No, Jug. Not a coward. You were _overwhelmed_ and you made a stupid choice. And you've paid for it.”

 

“Have I?” He murmurs the question to himself.

 

“ _Yes_ , you have. If there's one thing you're good at, Jughead Jones, it's punishing yourself.”

 

The dark-haired boy smiles at that, turning to look at Archie.

 

“I meant it when I said you were good, Juggie. You're every good thing in this world, every good decision. You just got a little lost along the way. We all do, sometimes.”

 

“It hurt so much, Arch.”Jughead's voice is low, soft, hesitant. “Too much happened at once. And I didn't know how to tell her that. Or you, for that matter. So how the hell can I do it now?”

 

Archie lowers himself onto the bed, gathering the other boy into his arms. “You just tell her, Jug. Everything you felt, everything you're feeling. It's the truest thing we have. Just that act of doing that should help.”

 

Jughead looks at him, ducking his head in a nod. “I loved her, you know. Just not the way she needed me to.”

 

Archie nods. “It was the same for me. And you went further than I did.”

 

Jughead sighs. “I was attracted to her. I thought I could fall for her. Maybe I was in love with the idea of that while telling myself I couldn't have you.”

 

Archie smiles, a bittersweet thing. “I think we're always going to love the girls. I _hope_ we do, they're our friends. But we're not _in love_ with them.”

 

“I know.” Jughead's sigh is tired, and he closes his eyes for a moment. Archie puts their foreheads together and waits for the other boy to look at him.

 

“Distracting movie and then bed?”

 

“Just a movie? Gonna keep your hands to yourself?” Jughead snorts, and Archie huffs a laugh.

 

“Much as I can, yeah. You can be very tempting, but I think you just need to sleep early tonight.”

 

“Archie knows best,” Jughead says around a yawn, and Archie grins at being proven right.

 

“Come on, pick a movie.”

  


They end up continuing Archie's “movie education”, as Jughead calls it, with the _Deathproof_ and _Grindhouse_ double feature. Jughead falls asleep 30 minutes into _Grindhouse_ , and Archie tucks him close to his side with a smile.

 

When his alarm goes off in the morning, Jughead groans and slaps a hand out to hit it, missing four times before the beeping stops. Archie cracks eyes open to see the other boy partially on top of him, head under his chin and a leg over his.

 

“I like waking up with you,” he murmurs, in lieu of ‘good morning’.

 

Jughead blinks bleary eyes up and him and grins, a lazy thing full of teeth and bliss. He pushes himself up on his arms to loom over the other boy, head tilting down to run that same lazy mouth over his, slow open-mouthed kisses in the sun’s early rays.

 

“I suppose you're not a bad sight to see first thing,” Jughead hums, lips trailing down over Archie's chin and neck.

 

“Coffee’s on downstairs, boys,” Fred calls from the stairs, and Jughead pulls back with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. Archie's eyes are bright as they look up at him, fingers trailing up his legs.

  
“Raincheck, I suppose?” Jughead sighs, and swings his legs off the other boy, stretching beside the bed. Archie's replying groan is long-suffering, and Jughead turns to see him stretching on the bed, all taut muscle and bare chest. When the redhead opens his eyes with a smile, Jughead's eyes are darker, hungry, trailing over his body with slow interest. “You're playing with fire pretty early in the morning, Arch.”

“Am I? Just stretching, Jug, try and keep it in your pants.” He chuckles, standing and breezing by the other boy. Jughead follows him with his gaze, smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth.

 

“I see,” he hums thoughtfully, part growl, and Archie masks the shiver down his spine by rummaging through his dresser for clothes.

 

Breakfast together with Fred feels like getting back to normal. During those months before Jughead was uprooted, nearly every single morning was spent this way.

 

 _Well,_ Jughead thinks, looking at a laughing Archie, _almost the same. Better than before. Better than that same._

 

He takes this moment to truly count his blessings, to burn this into his memories for darker days. The solid warmth of the coffee cup between his palms, the rough lilt of Fred's voice telling them a story about high school shenanigans, the boy next to him snorting with laughter into his own cup of coffee. The boy next to him, with bedhead and healing knuckles, the boy next to him who _loves_ him.

 

It makes him smile as he takes a sip of his coffee.

 

After breakfast, Fred leaves, bidding them a good day, don't be late for school, waving with his hard hat. When his car is out of sight and after they close the door, Jughead has Archie up against the wall, kissing him furiously. Archie grins into that kiss, arms going around him.

 

“Wow, Jug. What's gotten into you this morning?” It's laughed between kisses, hands curling around his hips. “Not that I don't appreciate this.”

 

Jughead snorts, running his hands down Archie's chest. “Please. You know we got interrupted. And…” He brushes an open mouth against one of the many faded love bites on Archie's neck, “I didn't get a chance to darken these last night.”

 

He savors the long slow shiver that cascades down Archie's spine, making his whole body move with it.

 

“Thought that might interest you,” Jughead laughs softly against his skin, “and we have a little time before school…”

 

Archie takes his hand and drags him upstairs with a growl. Jughead laughs delightedly, watching Archie set a timer on his phone before pulling the dark-haired boy to him.

 

“A timer? Really?”

 

Archie runs his hands up and down Jughead's flanks. “Can't give my dad a reason to complain, Juggie.”

 

Jughead just sighs in response, knowing he's right.

 

And then pushes him down on the bed with a Cheshire grin, fingers going up Archie's shirt as he kisses him. Archie's hands go to his hips, holding him there as Jughead sucks another lovebite right under his jaw. Those big pale eyes twinkling with mischief, the flat of his tongue licking his work, pleased at the whine that simmers deep in the other boy's throat.

 

“ _Much_ better,” Jughead purrs, tilting Archie's head back and sucking another bite right under his Adam's apple with force, _pulling_ the blood to the surface. “And you won't cover them.” It's not a question.

 

“As long as - _fuck_ \- I don't get asked questions about abuse,” the last word hissed as Jughead's teeth sink down into his skin.

 

“Good, Arch. Always such a loyal, faithful queen, doing my bidding.” Archie can feel his pleased smile burning into his flesh.

 

“ _Prince_ ,” he growls back at Jughead, whose grin just grows, crawling back up for hungry open-mouthed kisses. He rolls his hips against Archie's, laughing softly at the soft swear in response.

 

“If we had time, I'd love to have you now, and send you off to school dripping with me. Have them all know that I've marked you inside _and_ outside.”

 

A shudder rocks Archie thinking about it, gasping against Jughead's lips. Jughead looks amused, watching his response.

 

“You'd be reminded, right? Feeling me still hot and slick inside of you?” The wild eyes are back, watching Archie as if he's prey. Licks his way up his neck, eyes still locked. He worries at a spot behind his ear, rolling his hips again, grinning when Archie's groan aborts itself into a growl.

 

“Don't let this be one-sided, Jug,” he rumbles, nudging him up to kneeling on his lap, relocating his mouth onto his again with lips and teeth and tongue. He firms the hands on Jughead's hips, dragging blunt nails up under his shirt to track lines up his skin and bow the other boy into him with a gasp. “I think you need to be reminded, too.” He scrapes his teeth along his jawbone, snapping them closed under his ear and tugging on the skin. Jughead _shakes_ , groaning loudly.

 

“Never one-sided, I assure you,” Jughead pants, feeling Archie grin against him, snapping at his jugular before sucking a bite into it. “Still want to do that, though,” he adds after a moment, gasped as he throws his head back to allow access. Nails raking hard down his back under his shirt.

 

Archie hums against his neck, a shiver racing down his spine at the thought, and he laves his tongue around to the other side, giving Jughead equal marks on both sides. “I know,” he replies, rutting his hips up and connecting them with a low groan as Jughead breathes out a shaky curse.

 

“Did you set a timer just so you could inevitably ignore it?” Jughead snarks, a bit raspy as the other boy roves teeth over his throat and collarbone, breath hitching at each nip and moaning at every full bite and bracketing of teeth.

 

Archie presses his laughter into Jughead's skin, delighting as the other boy shivers. “No, education is important.” He travels back up to his lips, the kisses harder now, breathing heavy and laboured, and Jughead runs blunt nails over his scalp and the top of his back.

 

The sudden trilling of the alarm startles them both, but Jughead jumps visibly in Archie's lap. “Fucking _goddamnit_ ,” he growls, punctuating his frustration with another bruising kiss as Archie tries to decide whether to laugh or groan.

 

They sit there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, trying to remember how to be boys and not beasts.

 

“I hate school so very much right now,” Jughead sighs, resting his head on Archie's shoulder. Archie nods against him, stroking his back in a wordless hum. When he can breathe normally again, he taps Jughead's hips. The dark-haired boy sighs again, more deeply this time, getting up and finding his Serpent jacket.

  
“Come on. I'll give you a ride to school.” He shoulders his bag and gives Archie a long look while he gets his things, “and after we finish with the girls tonight I'm fucking you into the mattress until you _scream_.” It's snarled at the redhead, teeth bared.

Archie laughs softly. “I look forward to it, then. If you don't make me scream I'll be _quite_ disappointed.” His voice shifts into that dark thing that only Jughead's been able to bring out. He kisses the dark-haired boy's cheek.

 

They race to Riverdale, and when Archie dismounts and checks his phone for the time, he's pleasantly surprised.

 

“Five minutes to spare.”

 

Jughead preens. “You're welcome. And I'll pick you up later so we can go off to Pop's?” His voice dips just the slightest bit, worried.

 

“We can have a quick 'get our shit together’ review session before the girls get there, yeah.” He pulls Jughead in for a kiss. “Love you.”

 

The dark-haired boy's lips tick up in the ghost of a grin after pulling away. “Love you too.”

 

Neither boy sees the girl watching them in the distance.

 

When they all sit down to lunch, Veronica catches sight of Archie's neck and starts laughing.

 

“Oh my god, _Archie._ You look like you've been mauled by wild animals.”

 

“You uh, wouldn't be wrong,” he laughs, looking away.

 

Kevin's eyes go wide. “Did _Jughead_ do that?” At Archie's nod he looks faint. “Never would've thought he would've been into that.”

 

Archie's just blushing and scratching the back of his neck. Before he can say anything, a shadow falls over them all.

 

“So it's true, then?” Cheryl stands there, arms crossed over her chest, smirk fixed firmly on her lips. “You really do must have mommy issues, Archie.”

 

She sits next to him, shoving him over to make room. “I mean, I didn't _want_ to believe it. Ginger told me she saw a certain redhead kissing a boy in leather and a motorcycle this morning outside the school. A Serpent boy, at that. My, Archiekins, you've been a naughty boy.”

 

Veronica just grins, but it's dark. “You jealous, Cheryl?”

 

The ginger girl bristles. “Why would I be? I wouldn't be caught dead kissing Southside trash.”

 

Veronica leans in, hands on the table. Her body language is calm but her eyes are all flame, the reflections of sharp teeth. “At least he's getting some. No one wants you.”

 

Cheryl sputters indignantly, speechless, getting up from the table with her fists clenched. She's so angry she can't even speak. All she can do is glare as she walks off.

 

“Always feels good to use her narcissism against her,” Veronica chuckles, relaxing a bit.

 

“He has a _bike_ now? Jughead's become a cliche. I can't decide if this is amazing or terrible or both.” Kevin looks even fainter now, if that’s possible.

 

“Are you getting the vapors over Jughead, Kevin?” Veronica laughs.

 

“Trying not to.”

 

Betty's been silent this whole time, trying to go along with it all. But Archie can still see the pain in her eyes, the sight hunch of her shoulders.

 

“We still on for later?” Archie asks her, voice gentle. She looks up at him, startled.

 

“Yeah. Of course.” She tries to smile but it doesn't work very well. Archie reaches for her hand, and she takes it with great reluctance.

 

That hesitance _hurts._

 

He doesn't know what to say to that, to her rightful feelings of hurt and betrayal. There's nothing to say to that, really. So he just holds her hand for a few moments, squeezing gently. She seems grateful for the lack of words, the ones that wouldn't sound genuine only because he's so lost in his own mistakes, in the pain he's helped to cause even if he didn't initiate it.

 

Because sometimes words are just _noise_ in cases like these, sound and fury signifying nothing. Because sometimes all you can do is sit with that pain, invite it in, entertain it, and hope it takes its leave sooner rather than later. Hope that it's merciful and spares you with a brief visit over a long one.

 

By the time she lets go, she looks a little happier, a little heartened.

 

“Jughead's buying, by the way,” Betty grins and even though it's only a pale reflection of its usual brightness, it's _something,_ it's progress. A step in the right direction.

 

“He's getting a steady paycheck now anyway so yeah. Yeah he is,” Archie laughs. “Get whatever you want. I know I am.”

 

“That's a dangerous thing to say, Arch,” Betty faux winces.

 

“Tell me about it. He'll be eating the most out of all of us. I still don't know where he puts it all.”

 

There’s a twinkle in Betty’s eye as she smiles, something reminiscent of times past, and Archie holds it close to his heart for the rest of the school day.

 

Archie ends his day feeling cautiously optimistic. He's still concerned about how the meeting at Pop’s is going to go, anxious about the fallout between Betty and Jughead. That's going to be the biggest area of issues, he can already feel it.

  
Jughead’s waiting for him outside after school, leaning against his bike and checking his phone. He grins when he sees Archie, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

After they pull away for air, Archie looks at him, takes him in. There's still that feline slink to his movement, a lazy liquid panther lope, but it's a little harder than before. His shoulders are hunched a bit more than usual, tense.

 

“Ready?”

 

Jughead sighs. “As I'll ever be, I guess.”

 

Archie pulls him in again and kisses him. This time it's slow, lazy, palms on his cheeks, legs starting to tangle. Something simmering, but still gentle. Jughead puts his arms around Archie's neck, allows himself to fall for that moment, lets himself make a small soft sound into the other boy’s mouth.

 

When they part for air again, “Good. Let's stop at home and drop off our stuff. Then we'll go and get our shit together. Okay?”

 

Jughead nods, forehead against Archie's shoulder, leaning against him.

 

“And when we're done there, I look forward to your previous promise of fucking me into the mattress being fulfilled.”

 

That brings a snort out of Jughead, grin twitching up at the corners. “You sound skeptical, Arch. Don't believe me?”

 

Archie’s shrug is carefully nonchalant. “Let's just say I'm prepared to be amazed,” he teases, and watches the other boy lift his head, show off those dark eyes that trail over his face.

 

“Hm.” Jughead leaves it at that, smirk on his lips, and presses one last kiss to Archie's mouth, ending with a curl of tongue and a swift bite. Archie finds his body leaning in towards the other boy as Jughead pulls back, laughing, and they climb on the bike to head home to Archie's house.

 

The stop is quick, not enough for more teasing, though Archie makes sure to layer Jug with gentle touches as they move about the house. He reminds him of his presence, pulls him back down to Earth when his anxieties try to float him away, soothes his nerves. They drop their bags in Archie's room, and he stops Jughead with hands on his cheeks as the other boy flits about nervously, frown across his face like a thin, slashed line.

 

“Breathe,” Archie says quietly, bumping their foreheads together. “This is just a moment, a thing we have to get through, and we _will_ get through it.”

 

Jughead nods shallowly, eyes slipping shut as he regulates his breathing, tries to relax the electrical current in his veins, straighten the jumbled nerve endings under his skin and settle his bones from vibrating.

 

“I'll be there with you the whole time. And I'll still love you, even if it all goes to shit.”

 

Jughead opens his eyes, blowing out a slow breath. “Yeah?” He hates how small his voice sounds.

 

“Yeah.” Archie's voice is soft, his smile gentle, the gentlest it's been between them like this. “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise you that, Jughead Jones.”

 

At that, Jughead's eyes get slightly moist. He blinks, laughing softly, trying to rid himself of them. “What did I do to deserve you, Archie Andrews?”

 

“Hell if I know. We got lucky. Over seven billion people on the planet and we're here together now, in this time. In this universe. It's enough. Sometimes, you just gotta start from there.”

 

Jughead raises an eyebrow. “So, basically, ‘keep it simple, stupid’?”

 

“That's the idea. You said it, though. Not me,” the redhead laughs, leaning against his forehead once more. After one more kiss, Archie looks into his eyes. “Ready?”

  
Jughead shuts his eyes with a soft sigh. “Yeah. I guess. Let's get this over with.”

They get to Pop’s and commandeer a booth. The wait begins. Archie holds Jughead's hand, squeezing it every so often while Jughead does breathing exercises, trying to relax, trying not to let his mask slip down. Trying not to run or scream.

 

“Arch?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I'm…fuck me, I'm _scared._ ” Jughead's laughter is soft, hoarse.

 

“I know.” Archie kisses his temple. “I'm a little anxious, myself. I'm here with you.”

 

Jughead sighs, eyes scrunched shut, nodding crisply. “Trying to remind myself of that.” He sounds annoyed.

 

“Just keep doing it. I know anxiety doesn't like to listen to reason,” Archie hums, looking at some of the other patrons side-eying them because of their jackets but when they see Archie's face, are confused.

 

“That's what I keep telling myself,” Jughead sighs.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I know.”

 

The girls are the next people to walk through the door. Jughead is gratified to see that they look just as nervous.

 

And then they _really_ look at the boys, stopping in their tracks.

 

Veronica remembers herself and drags Betty into their booth. “Archie Andrews, are you wearing a Southside Serpents _jacket_?”

 

Betty looks alarmed. “Did… Did you join them?”

 

Archie flushes slightly, not expecting this to be their jumping off point. “I...sort of, I guess, yeah. I help out after school and stuff.” The girls exchange a look, and Archie rushes to explain further. “It's not what everyone thinks, not really. They're...mostly good people.”

 

“Don't judge a book by its cover?” Veronica asks, head tilted and scrutinizing Jughead now. The dark-haired boy matches her stare, and Archie watches the mask slip on, a reflex, and then slide off as Jughead sighs.

 

“If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” Jughead trails off, and Veronica’s smile is razor sharp.

 

“Glad you agree.”

 

There’s a moment of pause, the four of them looking at each other with eyes swirling with too much emotion. The waiter comes by to take their order, and Archie’s strangely pleased to hear that their regular orders remain the same.

 

After he's gone, Veronica clasps her hands on the table. “Perhaps you should start, Jughead. We've heard most of the story from our fair Archie, here, but why don't you tell us the whole thing? Don't leave out anything important.”

 

Jughead looks wary, eyes flicking between both girls. Betty’s watching him, shoulders slumped in slightly and face sad, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to her. “And where would you like me to start?” Even his tone is cautious, and Archie squeezes his hand under the table again.

 

“Preferably the events leading up to you abandoning us,” Veronica drawls, a careful creature with claws only barely tucked in, and Jughead fights not to wince, succeeding only barely.

 

Jughead takes a deep breath, pushing down the panic into his feet, past his feet, into the floor and begins. “It started the night you saw me put on the Serpent jacket when they came to call at the trailer, Betty.”

 

Her eyes widen slightly at that. “Go on,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on his.

 

He launches into the story - the Serpents’ offer, moving to Southside and getting his foster family, the details about Jason's murder coming out. How it all hurt too much, how seeing Archie and Ronnie hurt too much, how it was easier to descend instead, take his rightful place as the Serpent King. How he tried to reform them, how it was easier to push everyone else away and hope they'd take the hint.

 

How he missed them desperately. How Southside was okay but could never compare. How the loneliness had been starting to choke him.

 

Archie continues to hold his hand as he speaks, soothing his thumb over trembling knuckles. He watches the girls, watches their expressions change. How the anger morphs into sadness, into sympathy. But in Betty's eyes, there's still a shadow of anger, of hurt that refuses to go away and that makes Archie's heart sink.

 

_We knew this wouldn't be easy._

 

“If that's all the case… Juggie why couldn't you just _tell_ us?” Betty's voice is soft, and it's close to shattering. Archie can hear the cracks starting to appear like they would in glass.

 

 _Why didn't you just tell me_? Is the question Jughead really hears there.

 

“Because I was a coward,” he finally responds, after taking both a moment and a deep breath to gather those words, the words he'd been running from for the last few months. The words he'd been hiding from, dodging and weaving and burying the hell out of them. “Because it was easier to burn bridges, salt and burn the earth so nothing could grow again.”

 

Silence.

  
“Because it hurt too much to speak,” he finishes after a long pause, reaching for Betty’s free hand across the table. “Because it was easier not to.”

She haltingly reaches back, and their hands meet. She remembers how those hands feel like in hers (how they felt on her cheeks and back, breasts and between her thighs and in her hair). A shiver that stems from an old anger and old desire and sadness and so many other things builds at the base of her neck, echoes down her spine and into her fingers.

 

There's a few moments of silence as they let their skin heal, and Archie swallows past a lump in his throat. Finally Veronica sighs, and rubs at the bridge of her nose as if fighting a migraine.

 

“That's stupid,” she says, but it's soft and lilting, not the harsh, bitter tang of poisonous anger.  

 

Jughead looks up at her, and feels the tick of a smile start in one corner of his mouth, just a hint, a reminder. “I know.” He meets her gaze, tries to let her see. “But it's true.”

 

Veronica's quiet another moment, and finally reaches out across the table. Archie releases Jughead's hand with one last squeeze to let him bring it up onto the table, curl his fingers around the slim digits of the other girl. “I know,” she echoes, quiet and calm.

 

Archie looks at them, this broken triangle of his friends, hands held and heads tilted not down in prayer, but up to watch each other, to _see_. He sees the way they link, Betty and Veronica holding hands since they arrived, the way they join and loop and flow, and feels a small smile on his own face, a prick in the back of his eyes.

 

They could do this.

 

This wasn't a break, a snap in the chain. It was just a bump, a tear, something they had to repair with delicate hands and diligence, patience and love, something they had to hold in place until it was whole again.

 

The end of the world would not be today.

 

Their order comes and they release hands, digging in with gusto. As they eat and talk and laugh, things start to feel normal again. Sometimes there’s an awkward pause, but the thread of conversation quickly picks back up.

 

It feels like _hope_.

 

When things start to wind down, Jughead looks at Betty, feels an echo of the affection for her that he once did. He feels the affection of their friendship as it is now.

 

_I owe her this much._

 

“Betty,” he says, clearing his throat, “let's go outside.”

 

She nods, looking cautious. “Sure,” she murmurs, standing up and following him out the door.

 

Archie wants to go, wants to shield him, and it must show on his face because Veronica reaches for his hand, and with a kindness that makes his heart _ache_ (because surely, after everything that's happened, he can't deserve that) she says, “Jug needs to do this alone, Archie.”

 

He squeezes her hand, settling back in the booth. “You're right. Sorry.”

 

She flaps a hand. “It’s fine. It's adorable, actually.” She leans in, chin in her hand. “You know, I should've seen it before. You two being a thing. It makes way more sense than we did.”

 

Archie's brow furrows. “Ronnie, you know I cared about you, right? That I still do? I just fucked up and majorly, at that.”

 

“I do know that. I know you care about me.” Her voice is soft, and patient, though there's still the undercurrent of tired beneath it. “But you _love_ him, Arch. I know you love me too, but you couldn't love me the same way.” She leans back and squeezes his hand. “And that happens. Did it go down badly? Absolutely. But I don't regret being with you.”

 

“Neither do I.” His smile is small.

 

Her smile widens into a grin. “I'm glad to hear it.” She steals a fry as he finishes his shake. “So how is he in bed?”

 

Archie nearly chokes and she starts to laugh.

“Come on. Think of this as payback for what you did,” she purrs.

 

He turns as red as his hair. “Good,” he finally mutters, looking up at her. “Like _really_ good.”

 

“Like multiple orgasms good?”

 

“Uh…. Yeah. Actually.” Archie fidgets in the booth, hands waffling in front of him. “I mean, not...not one right after the other, because guys can't...can't really...but like after a bit, yeah.” He swallows, flushing further down his neck, and Veronica laughs, head thrown back.

“That's one of the many things females have over you boys,” she hums, eyeing Archie with delight. “And so those marks along your neck, there?”

 

“They, uh…” Archie clears his throat, “they sorta continue down a fair bit.”

 

Veronica leans forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling with interest. “How _far_ down?”

 

Archie's quiet, the incredible colour of his face answer enough, and Veronica leans back with a satisfied grin. “Jughead Jones, I am _impressed_ ,” she murmurs, craning her neck back to look out the window at the boy and Betty, but finding them nowhere. Archie follows her gaze, heart constricting in sympathy for Jughead.

 

“They must've gone around the back or something for privacy,” Archie guesses, and Veronica nods with a slight frown.

  
  


It's a bit brisk outside, but Jughead welcomes the gentle bite of the chill, giving him something to focus on other than the anxiety clawing its way through his intestines. He leads Betty around the side of Pop's to the back, and sits on the low concrete wall there. She takes a seat beside him, not too near, and Jughead finds himself both relieved and saddened by the few inches of space.

 

“In all of that explanation in there,” he starts after a moment of silence, “I never said that I was sorry, and that was a mistake. Another one.” He turns to look at her, finds her watching him still with a slight air of wariness that makes his body cold. “Betty, I am _so sorry_.”

 

She's silent, watching him with a wariness that had only been hinted at before. It's the oldest kind, the animal kind. The voice of the amygdala, shouting a warning of caution that only she can hear.

 

“I just don't understand _why_ you couldn't say anything. I'm actually at a _loss_ here, Juggie.”

 

He hangs his head a bit lower, stares out across the asphalt. “It wasn't really ‘couldn't’. It was a choice I made. There was too much shit going on in everyone’s lives, we all got upended and tossed about.” He halts, his words still trying to stay in his throat, to keep him safe and protected, to not let him be vulnerable. Betty waits. “I had to _leave_ , that I at least knew for sure. They were moving me and I had to go to the other side of town. And yeah, that's not the end of the world, I get that, but I couldn't make you all _choose_.”

 

“Choose _what_ , Jug? To want to see you? Why would we say no to that? You didn't move to _Alaska_.” There’s a bit of bite in her words, a heat that makes Jughead flinch, curl himself in a little tighter.

 

“There...there’s a war in the town, Betty, and I didn't want you involved. I figured...instead of watching you all get shit on the same as me, or hate me for it, I’d just...go. I'd take the choice from you, keep you safe and out of it, keep _me_ safe from losing you guys.”

 

“You tried to not lose us by _losing_ us -”

 

“But _I_ did it, so I could only hate _myself_ .” He fires back, and she pauses. “So I couldn't even _try_ to be mad at any of you, and so you would only hate me for this, for being cruel instead of getting you _hurt_ or _killed_.”

 

_I couldn't take that. I can take your loathing, your hate, but not the negation of your existence._

 

It's quiet then, the noise of cars and city life wafting around them. Jughead keeps an eye on Betty’s hands, and releases a breath of relief when he sees she's not clutching them, curling them into her palms.

 

“The only reason you don't have grades as high as mine is because sometimes you get bored,” she starts, voice calmer, still a shake threading through it, and Jughead blinks at the sudden change in subject matter. “You're smarter than any of us, I can say with confidence. You're smarter than any of us, Jughead Jones, and you're still an _idiot_.”

 

Jughead barks a laugh, quick and surprised.

 

“I get…” She holds her breath a second, releases it in a huff, and he watches her shoulders deflate, some of the wariness seep out of her features. “I get why you did it,” she says slowly, so slowly, and Jughead finds himself holding his breath, willing his heart to keep beating. “I understand the anxiety, the pain, the fear of losing everyone so bad that it chokes you and stops your heart and suspends you until all you can do is run from it and hide, escape.”

 

“A life in parts,” Jughead says, and his voice is a little hoarse.

 

“Masks are _exhausting_ , Jug.” It sounds like both a warning and a confession.

 

“I know.”

 

“Are you going to give them up yet?” The question is honest, not angry or bitter.

 

“I can't give up the Serpent King one yet, but I'm working on it. I'm in the process of abdicating the throne as we speak.”

 

Betty nods, and Jughead tries for bold, inching his hand across the wall towards her. She looks down at it for a beat, touching their fingers before allowing him to cover her hand with his.

 

“Your methods are idiotic, Jughead,” she sighs, and the smile that swims up Jughead's lips is shaky, unsure, but relief threads through his system.

 

“I know, I think that's been covered,” he tries for a laugh, wincing as it comes out too high.

  
“You seem to need reminding. I'll keep saying it until I know you've gotten the message,” she laughs softly.

His expression turns serious again. “Keep doing it, Betty Cooper. I have the feeling I'll keep needing that reminder. Especially when I finally do leave the Serpents. I don't...I might try to run again. I don't want to. But it gets to be this _urge_. I'm not sure you know what that feels like, but…” He gently squeezes her hand. “It's like a siren song I can't ignore. It becomes an all-consuming thought, an urge to protect you guys by pushing you away.”

 

A small silence but this one is a little more comfortable.

 

“So please. If you see me starting to do it again, _tell_ me. Show up at my foster parents’ place if that's what it takes. But keep reminding me, because I honestly don't think I have enough faith in myself to promise you I won’t do it again.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath in. “And the last thing you need is false or broken promises. I need...I'm _asking_ you for help. _Please_.”

 

She nods. “You grew up falling on your own sword, Juggie. I did too, to a certain extent, as did Archie. But neither of us are as good at it as you are.”

 

He smiles and it's shy. “You're not incorrect.” He lets himself get closer, and kisses her cheek. It's brief, and the wince he's waited for never shows. Instead she closes her eyes.

 

“I love you, Betty Cooper. I'm just sorry it wasn't in the way you needed it to be. But I love you, regardless.” His voice is soft, hoarse, threadbare, corduroy rubbed down to smooth fabric.

 

Her eyelids quiver, and tears emerge. They're silent, and her mouth trembles. She opens her eyes and hugs him hard, burying her face into his neck. Almost inaudible sobs wrack her frame and Jughead closes his own eyes, holding her tightly as Elizabeth Cooper allows herself to mourn openly for the first time.

  


“So who had who first?” Veronica is relentless in her line of questioning. Her eyes are dancing and full of fire and mischief.

“Like who got fu - “

 

“Bottomed. Whatever.”

 

Archie's long pause makes her bark a laugh in delight. “So it wasn't just with me! I _knew_ it.” She leans in closer. “So how was it?”

 

“Good. I mean.” He blushes again, nuclear red. “Really, really different but in the best way.” He toys with the straw in his now-empty glass. “I was his first,” he adds, smile happy, still somewhat in disbelief.

 

Veronica stares at him. “You mean he and Betty - “

 

“They never went all the way. So I was his first.”

 

Veronica leans back with a low whistle and raised eyebrows. “This is _fantastic_ information, Archiekins.” Her smile is bright, and Archie can't help but match it, red as he still is. “Next question, is he a talker? He seems like he'd be a talker.”

 

Archie _freezes_ , so sudden in his whole body that Veronica immediately laughs, one hand coming up to clutch at her chest with it.

 

“Oh my god, he _is_ ! And you _love it_ .” Her deductions are spot on and she knows it, voice crowing her victory and clapping her immense delight. “Oh, this is the most fun I've had in _weeks_.”

 

Archie snorts, rubbing at one flushed cheek. “Well, I'm glad, even if it is at my expense.”

 

Veronica reaches out across the table and takes his hand again, her smile softer. “No, not your expense. I really _am_ happy for you two, despite the mess of the beginning.”

 

Archie's heart aches at that. “Really?” His voice is soft and small.

 

Veronica nods. “Yeah. You needed each other. That's obvious now.”

  
The door opens, and Betty and Jughead wander back in. Her eyes are scrubbed clean of makeup, looking slightly red with the beginnings of puffiness. But she looks calm, calmer than she has in over a month, Veronica notes in relief. When she slides back in the booth, she puts her head on Veronica's shoulder.

Archie looks at Jughead, who still looks a bit anxious, but far more at peace than before. The dark-haired boy slips his hand into Archie's and smiles.

  


When they're back in Archie's room that night, Jughead finally feels as if things are starting to settle. He lies there next to Archie, who's finishing up some homework for the night. Curled against him, head on his shoulder.

 

“Do you feel better?” Archie's voice is soft, sparing him a glance as he finishes up making a few notes.

 

“Not entirely. But it's safe to say that while my actions will continue to haunt me, the girls won't.”

 

“How was talking with Betty?”

 

“One of the hardest things I've ever done,” Jughead replies without having to think about it. “It was hard to sit there, hard to face what I'd done. Harder to sit there and watch her start to mourn, really mourn what happened between us,” he sighs.

 

“But you did it. You got through it, just like I told you you could,” Archie grins. “I'm proud of you. You didn't run, and the world didn't end.”

 

“I'm still scared. I'm scared I'm going to run again and hurt all of you.”

 

Archie finishes the last of his notes, and closes his textbook. “I know. But we won't let you. _I_ won't let you. I promise you that.”

 

“Good. I told Betty to not let me, either. I know you two will keep me honest. You always have.”

 

Archie pulls him closer. “And I always will, Juggie. She will too.” He kisses the dark-haired boy on the temple.

 

Jughead nods against his shoulder. They're silent for a little bit, both of them taking simple comfort in each other's existence. Then,

 

“Will you come see me later?” His voice is soft and low, the suggestion of a purr.

 

“You did say you were going to fuck me into the mattress,” Archie hums, leaning in to nip at his neck. “How could I possibly say no to _that_?”

 

“I'll make you scream, just as promised.”

 

Archie laughs, a low, dark thing. “Sounds like a date. Does that mean you're leaving?”

 

“Yeah, I should make an appearance at home. I'll meet you at the trailer? 1am?”

 

Archie nods, nose still tucked behind Jughead's ear, and pulls back to kiss him. It's not quite as lazy, the intent clear behind the flashes of sharp teeth and curled tongues, and when they pull away Jughead's eyes are darker, Archie's mouth is open and panting slightly.

 

Jughead gets up with some reluctance, gathering his things and watching Archie from the corner of his eye as the other boy sits up. He steps into the cradle of the redhead’s knees and tilts his head up, leaning down to kiss him again. What he means to be chaste gets sidetracked as Archie slides flat palms up the backs of his thighs, fingers tucking up under his shirt and curling to drag blunt nails over his lower back.

 

“ _Eager_ ,” Jughead murmurs with pleasure, pulling at Archie's bottom lip with a soft groan.

 

“Is that the thing you love most about me?” Archie teases, guiding his mouth back to his to lick into the other boy’s mouth, feeling the shiver down his spine through his fingertips.

 

Jughead laughs, the sound only a little strangled, and turns his head to glide lips down Archie's neck. “Close second. The thing I love most about you, Archie,” he purrs, grinning as the other boy cranes his head back immediately, giving him full access, “is the way you _shake_ for me. When I first enter you, you're shaking in your whole body. Right before you come apart, your bones quake and shiver like tectonic plates. And sometimes,” the purr is lower now, delicious silk and honey over Archie's skin as he shivers, “if the sex is _really_ good, you shake the _whole time_.”

 

Archie finds himself groaning, the shiver along his skin continuing. “Which seems to be a lot of the time, then, if that's the thing you measure by,” Archie grins, kissing him once more before pushing him away. “Go home before I get tempted to keep you here, Jug.”

 

“You ruin all of my fun,” Jughead sighs.

Archie manages to get some sleep between Jughead going home and managing to sneak out to the trailer, miracle of miracles. He's in that hazy, peaceful place that appears after restful sleep, feeling calm.

 

Or maybe it's because things with the girls are finally starting to be somewhere near okay. Or maybe it's both, he's not sure. Either way, he's grateful for that sense of peace.

 

Jughead's waiting for him, eyes closed and leaning against the side of the trailer when he gets there. He opens one eye at the sound of footsteps, a napping cat disturbed, but he smiles. “Hey.”

 

“Hey. Did I interrupt your catnap?”

 

“No. I actually did get some sleep earlier,” Jughead manages to say through a yawn, stretching and shivering with the pulling of muscles in his sides and belly and back. “It was just so quiet here. I feel like that's rare.”

 

“Basking in the silence?”

 

Jughead grins, pulling the other boy up the stairs, and through the door. “Not enough people do it. Or maybe it's better to say that people have forgotten _how_ to do it. Ideas and inspiration can't come without downtime, you know.”

 

“More writer’s block?” Archie knows how Jughead gets when that happens.

 

“Can't be that if there isn't an idea to expand upon in the first place. I'm asking for that idea to _come_ , first and foremost.” Jughead sounds frustrated and the other boy draws him into a kiss, trying to distract him.

 

“Maybe I can help,” the redhead purrs into his neck, tucked under his jaw. Against his pulse, sucking a bright new bite into it. Thumbs pressed into his belly under his shirt, hands curled around his hips.

“Maybe you can,” the dark-haired boy agrees with a pleased, strangled laugh. “Or you can distract me from my failure to come up with an idea. I'd welcome either, at this point.”

 

Archie laughs against his throat, running lips and tongue up its center until he's kissing Jughead again, lazy at first but slowly turning more heated. “I'm good at distracting you. I'll go with that option for now.”

 

Jughead shrugs off his jacket, as does the other boy. He lays them both aside with care, then goes back to kisses that make them both dizzy.

 

“Can we get back to this morning when the timer went off and you were so _very_ bitter at being interrupted?” Archie grins against his lips, hands smoothing a path up his chest to tug off his beanie, breaking off only to place it down on their jackets. He's almost sure Jughead growls as he moves away for that moment, and he grins again as he steps back into the other boy’s space.

 

“We _can_ , if you'd be so kind as to _get on the bed_ ,” Jughead's tone is lower, hands firmer as they grip Archie's hips to pull him in closer, line their hips up with a breathy sigh.

 

Archie laughs, nipping his way over to the other boy’s ear, tucking his nose into his hair. “Shall I just undress for you, too? Take away all of your jobs, rob you of the things you like?”

 

“Archie, I'm disappointed. I told you what I like,” Jughead breaks off with a noise like the beginnings of a whimper as Archie works more marks into the remaining pale skin of his neck.

 

“You told me what you love _most_. I'm sure you have a list, and I'm sure somewhere on that list is unwrapping me like a present.”

 

He isn't wrong, and Jughead scowls with it until a hard nip brings out an actual whimper. “So either unwrap yourself or let me do it, Arch.” It's muttered against his skin.

 

“So I'm right?”

 

“You know you are.” The scowl deepens.

 

Archie laughs softly. “Okay, okay. Go ahead, Serpent King. Unwrap your prince.”

 

Jughead nips him hard at the base of his neck. “ _Queen,_ ” he corrects, pulling off Archie's shirt.

 

“I'm going to have to correct you about that forever, aren't I?” Archie's sigh is long-suffering.

 

“Probably. You'll always be a queen to me, Archie Andrews,” Jughead laughs, hands already undoing his belt. “And I will _never_ tire of unwrapping you as a present.”

 

_Because that's what you are to me. A gift I'm still not sure I deserve._

 

Archie steps out of his jeans. “Never?” His grin is huge, eyes dancing as he pulls off Jughead's shirt.

 

“No. Never,” Jughead sighs, stepping out of his own jeans, pushing Archie down on the bed. “That can't be a surprise.”

  
  


When Jughead shakes the redhead awake somewhere around five, Archie curls into him with a groan. His hips and ass still ache, and he'd much rather sleep the morning in with the dark-haired boy next to him.

 

“No, Jug -”, he mutters, looking at him blearily.

 

“ _Yes, Jug_ , is what you meant to say, I'm sure,” Jughead murmurs, kissing him on the cheek, getting him to sit up. “Come on. Up. The last thing we need is your dad grounding you.”

 

Archie sighs heavily, wincing. He snatches a kiss from Jughead before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Jughead's grin grows when he sees how gingerly Archie is moving, handling himself.

 

Archie sees his expression and shakes his head. “Looks like I really will feel you for the rest of the day,” he murmurs, pulling on his jeans.

 

The dark-haired boy looks immensely satisfied with that as he pulls on his shirt. He lets his gaze fall over fresh bites and bruises and scratches scattered over Archie's frame. “Good. It'll give you something to think on at school.”

 

Archie groans, looking at him. “I need _that_ like a hole in the head.”

 

“I love you too,” Jughead snickers, holding the door open for him as they go outside to get Archie home.

  


Spring truly arrives, and warmth seeps back into the air, melting any remaining snow. Plum, apple, and cherry blossom trees explode into flower, big fragrant blooms that rain down in the streets. Carpets of pale pink and white cover the asphalt for miles around.

 

Archie wishes he could enjoy the turn of weather more, but something else has his attention.

  
He's noticed as they go to the Wyrm after school that there are strange, subtly hostile looks being thrown Jughead's way now, where before there was a cautious sizing up. Archie isn't sure if Jughead's noticed, or if he has and is just ignoring them.

It gets Archie's hackles up, and makes him hold Jughead a little tighter, a little longer.

 

But all of that is eclipsed with one text.

 

Archie is at lunch with the girls and Kevin one warm spring day when Archie's phone goes off with a notification.

 

 _Just got a text from the foster mom. My worker's coming over later on_ urgent _business._

 

_Did she say why?_

 

_No. Just that I needed to get home this afternoon to meet with her._

 

Archie stares at his phone, feeling a sinking in his stomach.

 

“Arch. What's wrong?” Betty asks, conversation stopping in its tracks.

 

“It's Jughead. Says his worker's coming by later on urgent business _.”_

 

Veronica puts down her fork. “That doesn't sound good.” Her voice is soft, low, anxious.

 

“Are we sure it's not just her coming by with more endless forms from social services for him to fill out?” Kevin asks, but it's clear that his heart isn't entirely in his devil's advocate question.

 

“Would that qualify as _urgent_ , though?” Betty looks around at all of them.

 

“I don't think so. My dad talks a lot about how broken that system is,” Kevin says, shaking his head. “How it moves at the speed of maple syrup. I really don't think it's that.”

 

_Do you need to debrief after?_

 

_If the foster parents let me. I think it would be a good idea, yes._

 

_You want the whole gang there? Or just me?_

 

_Just you, for now. I figure we can talk to them after. I don't know how bad this might be._

 

“Think you guys will be around tonight?” Archie raises his head and looks at the others.

 

They look at each other.

 

Betty shrugs. “Practice is over at 5 for me and V.”

 

“I'm open if needed,” Kevin nods.

 

“What does his Excellency say?” Veronica rests her chin on her hand.

 

“He may need you guys later. Not sure yet though.”

 

“Keep us updated,” Betty murmurs, reaching for Archie's hand. “Don't let him pull away again.”

 

He squeezes her hand. “I won't. Don't worry.”

 

The rest of the day seems to trickle by for Archie. Every time he looks at the clock, only a minute has passed, when in his head his thoughts have been running rampant for what feel like hours. His concern grows, a festering sore in his gut that sucks up any productivity or normal human interaction like a black hole.

 

When the day is finally done, he says goodbye to the others and heads home. There’s still no update from Jughead, and he tries to see it as a positive, the _‘no news is good news’_ adage. He gets home and takes Vegas for a walk to try and clear his head, playing with him in the nearby park for at least an hour. He gets back home a little tired, but no less anxious.

 

Fred arrives home and notes the pulling in of his eyebrows, the slightly frantic look to his eyes. “What happened?”

 

“Jug’s caseworker wants to talk to him today, says it's urgent. We're not really sure what's happening, what she wants.” Archie's fidgeting, turning a bottle cap over and over in his hands.

 

Fred stays quiet a moment, before coming over and stilling Archie's hands. “Hey. You don't know anything yet. Maybe they're moving him back over here, back in your school district. Don't make mountains out of invisible molehills, Archie.”

 

He nods. “I just don't think that would be _urgent_ enough, you know? But point taken. It just feels like things have been going downhill lately.”

 

“Feels like it, yes. But it can always get worse. Jughead's lucky he found a place to land. I'm grateful he has. This is the one time I know of where a broken system has actually _worked_ in those terms.”

 

“There's that.”

 

“That's what I'm saying,” Fred smiles, shaking his head.

 

Archie's phone vibrates in his pocket. He answers it. “Hey. How'd it go?”

 

“That… Well, it wasn't good news.” Jughead blows out a long breath on the other end of the phone.

 

“Come over. We can talk about it.”

  
“Be there in a bit.”

Archie hangs up and looks at his father. “Not good news, he said. He'll be here soon to tell us the rest but he seems pretty shaken up.”

 

Fred's sigh is heavy. “I was hoping that wouldn't be the case.”

 

The sound of a motorcycle soon reaches their ears. Archie goes outside, and can already see by the hunch of Jughead's shoulders how upset he is. His muscles are tight and he holds himself stiffly.

 

“Hey,” Archie hugs him tightly and Jughead presses his face into Archie's shoulder. They stay like that a minute until Jughead shakily exhales, letting him go.

 

“Hey, yourself.” Jughead pulls back with a small smile, looking a little more relaxed but not by much. He slips his hand into Archie's as they walk back into the house.

 

Fred's there waiting, looking a bit anxious. “Hey, Jug.”

 

Jughead nods to him in hello, taking off his Serpent jacket out of respect for him. Archie takes it up to his room while Jughead perches himself on a stool there in the kitchen.

 

“You want some coffee?”

 

Jughead shakes his head. “Caffeine would probably not be the best idea right now.”

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

Archie takes his place next to the dark-haired boy. “So what happened?”

 

“For one, the state failed to notify me that my father was arraigned a few days ago.” Jughead's tone is wry but the rest of him is without mirth.

 

Fred winces. “As messed up as that is, I can't say I'm surprised,” he sighs, getting a beer before settling back down on his stool.

 

“Same, actually,” Jughead shrugs. “The worker just told me what your mom did, Archie. After arraignment, things will move fast.”

 

“How did he plead?” Archie asks.

 

“Worker says he tried for guilty, until he was reminded that there was video evidence of Clifford Blossom pulling the trigger. If just for doing the cleanup work, they got him to agree to no contest for a lesser sentence.”

 

“Which at this point is probably unknown,” Fred sighs again, this time a bit more heavily. “FP has always been good at trying to sink his own battleship, as it were.”

 

“That's where I get it from, probably,” Jughead agrees.

 

“So what next?” Archie looks at him.

 

“No word on when the actual trial is. ‘Maybe in a few weeks’ is the answer I was given.”

 

“Was there anything else she said? You're staying where you are, it's just kind of a ‘sit tight’ for now?” Archie asks, thumb running over the back of Jughead's palm.

 

“Yeah. Not really much to do right now. She said they might have to call me in as a character witness or whatever, if it comes to that.” He looks up at Fred, face trying for neutral, betrayed by the hollows under his eyes. “They're almost definitely going to call you, though.”

 

Fred nods, arms crossed as he sighs. “Yeah, I know. I've been preparing.”

 

Archie looks over at his father, thinks back over the 2am noises he's heard from downstairs, the periodic sleeplessness the other man has exhibited. The sudden knowledge of how this must be affecting _him_ , too, gives him pause.

 

“So it's a whole lot of nothing, at the moment,” Jughead sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “Just information on what's been going on in the real world, just in time for me to stress about it.”

 

“There's not much you can do about that, Jug,” Fred says softly, “So aside from starting to prepare and making sure you're out of the Serpents by then…”

 

Jughead nods. “I'll speed up my timetable. This is just so _heavy_. I'm so, so tired of carrying it around.” His voice cracks just the slightest bit as he puts his head on his arms, hiding his face. Archie feels his heart twist in his chest and vaguely wonders if he's having a heart attack. Instead he runs a hand up and down Jughead’s back, trying to soothe him.

 

He's never felt so _helpless_.

 

“I know,” is all he can murmur, “Just a little longer. You're so close to being done with it all, Juggie. We'll help you as much as we can.”

 

Jughead takes a long, deep shuddering breath, nodding against his hands. It hurts Fred to watch, his second son sitting there across the kitchen island. His second son that's suffered so much, too much.

 

“Whatever you need, Jug. We got your back. Always have, always will,” he says, his hand falling on the top of Jughead's head, gentle but firm. He lets the weight of his hand stay there a moment before moving. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

 

Jughead nods against his arms and hands. “Please,” he mumbles. Fred smiles and leaves, going to find some menus for takeout.

 

Jughead straightens up, looking a little less miserable, taking out his phone and texting his foster mom. He smiles when he gets a quick reply.

 

“She wants to know if you're still coming to dinner on Sunday.” Jughead puts his phone on the island surface with a small sigh.

 

“I have for every Sunday the past three weeks. So yeah, I'm in.”

Jughead replies and his smile grows. “This pleases her greatly. Also she says hi.”

 

That makes Archie laugh softly. “I'm glad she's treating you well, Jug.”

 

The dark-haired boy sighs, pulling Archie closer so he can rest his head on the redhead's shoulder. “I am too. You, and the Scooby gang, and your dad, and her. I'm lucky to have all of you.”

  


Over the next week, Archie notices a strange atmosphere starting to gather during Serpent meetings. Half of the room is pretty quiet, respectful, and the other half is sullen, fidgety, glaring at Jughead (and occasionally, Archie too). It's the same people who have been giving him those silent, angry looks as they pass by. Jughead hasn't noticed - and now Archie knows why. Between talking to Fred and his worker and trying to figure out what might be needed of him in a court of law along with trying to finish up handing over things to Mina for the Serpents, he just hasn't been able to see it.

 

And Archie isn't sure how to tell him. Isn't sure that it's not just him being hypervigilant, wanting to make sure he stays safe.

 

Isn't sure about a lot of things, just that something feels so very, very _off_ , and has ever since the confrontation with Clyde.

 

But Jughead continues on and Archie follows, the dark-haired boy frowning through his days with blinders on just to get through to the next sunrise, the next bit of information, hoping soon his world would re-orient itself. Archie tends to stand behind him more often than not now, making sure Jughead is always protected, always in his sights.

 

So Archie's pretty sure he knows why all his alarm bells go off when Jughead texts him one afternoon, pulling his phone out while the teacher’s turned around to read the message on his screen.

 

_Just got a message about some Serpent meeting tonight. Do you remember me calling for one?_

 

Archie feels his heart stop for at least a beat before kicking into high gear, pumping ice into his veins instead.

 

_No._

 

_Yeah that's what I thought. Maybe Mina called one._

 

Archie's fingers fly over his screen, something in his head screaming a warning, and he has to fix five errors in the text before sending it off.

 

_Jug, please text her and ask. Call her if she doesn't reply. Do not go unless you know one of you set it up, please. You have to trust me on this, something feels wrong._

 

It's a full few minutes before Archie's able to look for a reply.

 

_She said no meeting and she's looking into it. Maybe I should still go…_

 

 _Jug, NO. Please. I have a really bad feeling about this. Like a_ **_bad_ ** _feeling in my gut._

 

A few more minutes pass. He's so lightheaded that his body and brain feel completely disconnected, that he could vomit diamonds with the pressure and churning in his gut. He imagines teardrops of light like glass falling at his feet from his lips.

 

He imagines them turning to rubies when exposed to a bleeding Jughead who didn't heed his warnings -

 

He shakes his head a bit violently to get that picture out of his head.

_Okay. I won't go. I've been slacking on my next novel anyway. Wanna go to Pop's?_

 

_Sounds good. Just you and me or?_

 

_Invite the rest of the Scooby gang. They'd be welcome company._

  


At lunch, a text from Mina comes in just as Archie and the girls are sitting down to eat.

 

_Something's up. Keep Jug away until I can get this figured out._

 

_How bad?_

 

_Not sure yet. I have some ideas but none of them have a good outcome to them._

 

Archie looks up at the girls, a pit of lead in his stomach. “Jug asked me to invite you guys to Pop's later to hang out.”

 

Betty and Veronica raise their eyebrows and look at each other.

 

“You mean the Serpent King deigns to see us? _Well._ ” Veronica’s hand flutters to her chest in mock surprise.

 

“Don't you guys have a meeting today?” Betty munches on her apple.

 

“Usually yes, but it was moved for this week. Something else is going on, and I need to keep him away from the Wyrm.”

 

The girls exchange another look, this time worried.

 

“Something bad?” Veronica's voice goes low and soft.

 

“I have a really, really bad feeling about it. Like in my gut.”

 

“But no proof?” Betty’s eyes search his.

 

“His second-in-command is checking it out. But nothing solid so far, no. She asked me to keep him away while she figured it out.”

  
Betty looks deeply concerned. “We'll help however we can, Arch.”

Archie nods his thanks and tries for a smile, hoping the girls understand its fragile nature. There’s a low buzzing in his head for the rest of the school day, a low frequency whine of bordering adrenaline and energy, ready to be unleashed at the drop of a pin. He feels twitchy, jumping slightly at sounds, glaring around corners, and at the sounding of the last bell he all but leaps out of his chair. He throws everything into his knapsack with reckless abandon, crinkling papers and crushing an uneaten sandwich.

 

He's out the door in seconds, beelining to the girls’ lockers. Veronica catches sight of him first, the panicked edge to his eyes, and closes her locker quickly, nudging Betty to do the same.

 

“Let's go,” Archie mutters, once they're all ready. They head to Pop’s as fast as their feet can take them, Archie taking a bit of care with Veronica’s heels only to find her speed-walking skills superb.

 

They arrive before Jughead does and claim a booth for themselves, tucking in and settling. Archie sits near the edge of one side, body somehow managing to look relaxed and ready to strike, a beast in repose.

 

The girls start up easy conversation about school and Archie joins in as much as he can, nodding in parts and watching out the windows. When he hears the roar of the engine arrive, he can almost feel the relief through his veins like a tangible thing. Jughead strolls in a moment later, and Archie's up like a shot, pulling him in and clutching him close.

 

“Hey,” Jughead’s voice is a little surprised, hands up to flatten along Archie's back, reassuring him in broad strokes.

 

Archie closes his eyes. “Hey,” he murmurs back, muffled by Jughead's shoulder.

 

Archie steps back a moment later, feeling relief starting to travel through his blood stream to the other parts of his body that haven't gotten the memo to relax yet.

 

“Mina texted me. She wants you to stay away until she gets things figured out.”

 

Jughead takes his hand, squeezing it as they sit down. “I will. I promise. Until she gives the all-clear, I'm not going near the Wyrm. Okay?”

 

“We'll keep him to it, Archie,” Betty murmurs with a nod. Veronica nods too.

 

The redhead relaxes. “Okay. I'm just…” he sighs, “after that whole thing with Clyde, I'm worried someone's gunning for you, Juggie.”

 

The girls’ faces morph into disgusted expressions.

 

“Who the fuck is Clyde?” Veronica shudders. “I've always _hated_ that name.”

 

“Same here,” Betty mutters.

 

“A Serpent who prefers my father's leadership style to my own. Has a terrible right hook,” Jughead sighs.

 

“He didn't like the fact that Jughead let me in with the gang. Or the fact that I'm his boyfriend,” Archie adds, leaning back in the booth, finally allowing himself to get more comfortable.

 

Someone comes by and takes their order. Archie can tell by the amount of food Jughead’s ordered how this is still very much affecting him regardless of how calm he may sound.

 

Once their waitress leaves Jughead sighs again, deeper this time, head on his hands on the table. “He may have a faction, too, within the gang as a whole,” he mumbles into the table.

  
Betty reaches out and puts her hand on his head, gently patting it. “You need that like a hole in the head right now,” she says sadly. “Believe me, if Ronnie and I were there right now….” She shivers in rage, “well, he _wouldn't_ be a problem anymore.”

Jughead looks up at her. Her voice is so fierce, so protective. Her hands starting to curl into fists, the kind where her nails cut into her palms and make her bleed.

 

_Even after I hurt her so much, so deeply…_

 

He takes one of her hands within his own, uncurling it before she can hurt herself and smiles, eyes moist. “I truly do not deserve you, Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge,” he says to them both.

 

Veronica grins. “You're correct, Jughead Jones, you do not. But we're here anyway.” Then her expression softens. “Is there anything you can do about that guy and his possible faction?”

 

Archie and Jughead look at each other. “No,” Jughead shakes his head, “Aside from speeding up my timetable to finish handing things over to Mina and getting the hell out of dodge, I can't really think of anything. What about you, Arch?”

 

Archie's quiet a moment as he thinks, then shakes his own head. “I don't have anything there, either.”

 

“So we wait for word from Mina, I guess.” Jughead shrugs. “Not much else to do now.”

 

They pass the time easily enough, the girls recounting stories from school, some that Archie had already told him but from a new perspective, and Jughead telling them about his. The food arrives and they eat, Jughead scarfing it down like a last meal, and Archie watches him from the corner of his eye. There’s still a ball in his stomach, a pit of anxiousness and fear that was only lessened when Jughead arrived, not dismissed completely.

 

It's about 90 minutes later that Archie's phone buzzes, and he hears the vibration from Jughead's pocket as well.

 

_Need to see you both. You free?_

 

Archie shoots Jughead a glance, the other boy reading his phone, and slides his back into his pocket. “You reply to her, she only needs the one text.”

 

“Mina?” Betty asks, eyes concerned as she stirs a fry in ketchup on her plate.

 

“Yeah, says she needs to see us.” It's another minute before Jughead's phone buzzes again, and the aborted noise he makes causes Archie to look over again. “What is it?”

 

Jughead shakes his head, something like a humourless laugh breaking past his lips. “She says we have to meet somewhere other than the Wyrm. She's not sure about it yet.”

 

Veronica blinks, glancing at each of them in turn. “Is it...really that bad?”

 

There’s churning lava in Archie’s stomach as he replies, hand out to lay on Jughead’s arm. “I guess...I guess so.”

 

Kisses on the cheeks ( _good luck charms_ , Veronica tells them whilst wearing one of her old grins) from the girls when they part a little while later, hopping on the bike to go meet Mina in a cafe near the offices for the _Register._

 

Jughead feels fear punch through his veins when they get there and she's been waiting, a fresh large piece of gauze stretched across one sharp cheekbone, another wrapped neatly around her upper arm.

 

“ _Jesus,_ Mina,” Jughead sits, eyes wide. He reaches a shaky hand to her arm and she winces as he brushes fingers across it.

 

“It was a trap,” she says, nursing her cubano, with the everyday banal tone she'd also use to talk about the weather.

 

“Are you okay?” Archie sits on her other side, looking at her, concerned and scared still for all of them.

 

“Let's just say Clyde’s sad little faction made their move. I'm honestly more angry that they fucked up my new tattoo,” she snarls, flexing her arm. “But I made sure the guy who shot at me paid.”

 

“You _killed_ him?” Jughead's eyebrows go up, voice strangled and hoarse.

 

“ _Fuck no_ ,” she replies after belly laughing for nearly a minute straight, “I shot out his kneecap and took his wallet. He wasn't worth killing. Now when he has to relearn how to walk he'll _have_ to remember what his loyalty cost him.” Her grin turns feral, hungry, wicked.

 

“How many of them were there?” Archie lets his eyes dart back and forth between his boyfriend and the female Serpent.

 

“Five. I spread the word about the meeting and there were ten of us to their sad little five.”

 

“Are the rest of you okay?” Jughead asks, looking as green with nausea and rage as he feels.

 

“No one died. The most serious injury was that guy's knee, I think. He slunk off to the hospital after. The rest have been excommunicated, as it were,” she sighs, leaning back in her chair, sipping her coffee.

 

“Doesn't mean they won't come back,” Archie murmurs, taking Jughead's hand.

 

Mina grins, Cheshire. “Oh, they won't. Next time they actually probably might be shot dead. Not by me but the others are mad enough.”

 

Jughead runs his free hand over his face. “The last thing we need is a gang war on top of the one within the town at large, whether I'm the Serpent King or not.”

 

“I do not disagree,” Mina sighs, “we don't have time for this, especially with Hiram Lodge on his way back into town. He’s going to try to take us down too, I have the feeling.”

 

Jughead's sigh is heavy, tangible. “Fuck.”

 

“That's about right at this point,” she agrees.

 

Archie looks at them. “Can we speed up that transfer of power?”

 

“ _Is_ that possible at this point?”

 

“Even if it's not, the faction doesn't know that. I can start spreading the word when I get back later. It might buy us a tiny bit more time,” Mina hums, looking pleased with that idea. “There's many types of warfare, guys. People keep forgetting that PR is one of them. As old as time itself.”

 

“Or as old as image wars are,” Jughead chuckles with a shake of his head. “That being said, there's not a whole lot to finish doing. Mostly stuff for the Wyrm now anyway, like stuff with the vendors.”

 

“So if all goes well, maybe in a few days anyway?” Archie asks, voice soft.

 

“Possibly. If nothing else happens, I want to say yes. Mina?”

 

“I'm good to go on my end. Whenever you feel like I'll be best prepared, Jug,” she shrugs, then her expression gets serious again. “That aside, I want you to know that for as long as you need it, or as long as this thing with your dad is going on, we have your back. _I_ have your back, Jughead Jones, come what may. Whatever you need.” She takes his hand, eyes fierce. “I mean it. You've more than proved yourself in my eyes.”

 

Jughead's lips part and he genuinely feels touched. “Mina…”

 

“We'll take care of you. I'll make sure you continue to get a paycheck from the Wyrm like everyone else. And,” she puts up a hand when he starts to sputter a reply, “I don't want to hear about how that wouldn't be right. You've earned it, Serpent King. And you need it. So let me give that to you, as my _personal_ thanks if nothing else.”

 

Archie sees Jughead's eyes go moist. After a minute, he nods slowly. “Okay. Thank you, Mina.”

 

She gets up and hugs him. It's gentle, and one-armed, favoring the uninjured one. “You're welcome. After you're done handing things over, and you feel safe coming back, you need to visit us. Or me. I see so much of my past self in you. It's kinda trippy, truth be told.” Her smile is big and bright and Archie hasn't seen this before from her. Not yet, anyway. It surprises him.

 

_It's not just Jughead that has that Serpent King mask. What if they all do?_

  
  
After getting assurances that she'll be okay (and Jughead requesting that she check in later that night), they hop back on the bike back to Archie's, going into his room. When they get inside and after Archie closes the door behind him, Jughead's immediately in his arms, pressing his face against Archie's neck.

They stay like that, silent, with Archie's arms tight around Jughead until the dark-haired boy is able to speak.

 

“I could've...I might've _died_ today, Arch.” Jughead's voice is almost inaudible, shaking hard like the rest of him. “If I hadn't listened to you - and I almost didn't - I might be... _we_ might be dead right now.”

 

Archie doesn't know what to say to that. Instead he strokes Jughead's back, letting him speak.

 

“We were _this_ close to death, Archie,” he mutters, pulling away, eyes big and terrified. “And I almost just _walked right into it_ . What is _wrong_ with me? I thought this could be okay,” he spits, his breathing getting faster, too fast, the precursor to hyperventilating, “I thought if I just handed over my position and power they'd leave me, they'd leave _us_ alone - “

 

Archie pulls Jughead's face toward him, kissing him hard. When he pulls away Jughead's silent, looking up at him, still scared. But his breathing is starting to return to normal, his pulse starting to slow.

 

“Nothing is wrong with you, Juggie. You made a logical assumption, which unfortunately backfired. But the worst didn't happen. You got close to it happening but you, _we,_ got out okay.”

 

Jughead nods, but his eyes are still wild, frantic. Archie moves his hands to frame the other boy’s face, a solid presence, and lowers his forehead to his.

 

“I didn't…” Archie swallows, a faint tremor through his fingers. His own panic seems to centre Jughead, eyes more focused as the other boy speaks. “I didn't know if you'd go or not. I didn't know how to tell you that it felt _wrong_ , that the Wyrm’s felt wrong for weeks. I couldn't find the words. Something wasn't right and I was so scared, Jug. I can't…” He closes his eyes and remembers Jughead telling him about his fears in the tub all those nights ago. “I can't lose you. I can't.”

 

_I don't think I'd survive that._

 

He opens his eyes with a deep breath, shaking only slightly in his lungs, and watches dust settle in the chaos of Jughead's eyes, eons of spun-off realities, _what-if_ s and _but maybe_ s being pushed aside and forgotten in every attempt at calm. “But we didn't lose each other. We're going to be fine, and we're going to get through this, and things are going to work out.”

 

“H-”

 

“Because they have to. Because we'll make them.” Archie smiles just a bit at the soft snort Jughead makes, the urge to roll his eyes too great.

 

“You're a bit of a sap, Archie Andrews.”

 

“Just a bit? I must be losing my touch.” Archie's smile is only a little shaky, but it's bright, so bright even with what happened today.

 

Jughead does laugh then, only slightly strangled, the sound not loud enough to muffle the front door closing downstairs.

 

“Arch?” Fred's voice is jittery, a strange hybrid of a shout and a snarl. Jughead's reminded of a lion pacing, roaring, trying to scare off anything that might hurt his pride.

 

“Up here, Dad!” Archie calls back, pitching his voice out and down toward his father, letting Jughead go long enough to do it.

 

Clomping up the stairs, Fred's expression is tight, only softening when he sees the boys, how shaken up they still are. He leans against the doorway, looking relieved. “You boys okay?”

 

“If you mean physically okay but also emotionally terrified, yeah. We're okay,” Jughead quips shakily, sitting down on Archie's bed.

 

“My men were talking. Something about the police responding to shots fired at the Wyrm?” Fred crosses his arms and fixes them with a steady gaze.

 

“We weren't there. Jughead's second-in-command tipped us off so we went to Pop's instead with the girls,” Archie says, sitting down on the bed as well.

 

“Why didn't you tell me that things were that bad, boys?” Fred's words are caught between a mutter and a murmur as he pinches between his eyes.

 

“I was just telling Jughead that I didn't know _how._ That I couldn't find the words.” Archie looks down at his hands. “Maybe if I had, this could've been avoided.”

 

Fred sighs, going over to him. “It's not your fault. Neither of you,” he clarifies, looking at Jughead with a small smile. “You didn't _make_ people start shooting. You should’ve told me earlier, and I would've taken it from there.” He sits between them, an arm going around each boy. “What's more important is that you're both okay. You're both alive. You're both home.”

 

“You gonna tell my foster family?” Jughead mumbles the question, not quite able to look Fred in the eye.

 

“They’ll probably hear about it anyway,” Fred sighs. “So yeah, Jug, I think I have to.” He squeezes the dark-haired boy's shoulder, something meant to be comforting but it makes Jughead inch away, eyes still cast down.

 

“I need to take responsibility, I suppose. After all, I helped cause this, in part.” Jughead's voice is dangerously soft, and that makes another alarm go off in Archie's head.

 

“Not directly, Jug, I'm sure - “ Fred starts but Jughead just violently shakes his head.

 

“My _presence_ caused a rift.”

 

“They were waiting for something like that to happen,” Fred looks at this other boy who's been his second son for so long in all but in blood. “The Serpents have never been known for a stable social structure or keeping cool heads, Jughead. Your father knows that. I think your second-in-command does too. You cannot and _should not_ take responsibility for dynamics out of your control, especially when those dynamics have always been more than a little chaotic.”

  
Jughead looks up at him with big eyes. “Then why does this feel like my fault?” It's a broken whisper and not aimed at anyone in particular.

“Because that's what you're used to,” Archie says after a deep breath. “Blame has always been put on your shoulders, Juggie, whether it belongs there or not. It's been forced on you ever since we were kids.”

 

Silence fills the room like water, dense and thick like fog.

 

Archie's words somehow feel like a revelation, the elephant in the room (one of a herd) that no one's dared name before aloud.

 

“So what do we do?” Jughead’s voice is still so soft, so tentative, so shaky.

 

Fred’s quiet another few moments, looking out at the room of his son, the past memories and reminders, the images of lives lived in pictures and knick-knacks. “You find a way to ease the world off your shoulders, Jug, and you _live_.”

 

That, too, feels like a revelation, somehow. No one's said that to Jughead before. No one's asked him to live, to merely exist. Not without stipulations.

 

Not without _conditions._

 

Jughead hugs Fred at that moment, feeling nothing but gratitude.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice thick with what might be tears.

 

Fred’s large, warm hand falls on Jughead's head, stroking it once.

  


Mina checks in later that night. Jughead is summarily grounded after Fred talks to his foster parents, but is granted that last night with Archie as a small mercy.

 

The dark-haired boy uses Archie's shoulder as a pillow, reading an old, battered copy of _The Little Prince_ he spotted on Archie's bookshelf. He's going slow, really letting the words and the warmth of the boy behind him sink in. Archie's arm is looped around his waist while Archie works on a new song, humming softly to himself.

 

This may be the last time he gets to be here like this with Archie for a little bit.

 

“How long did you say you were grounded for?”

 

Jughead turns the page. “The debate is between one or two weeks. I heard your dad going to bat for me before dinner, which I appreciate,” he hums. “Maybe if I behave I'll manage to reduce my sentence.”

 

“All those pretty marks won't last a week or two,” Archie laughs, warm velvet as he nips Jughead's ear.

 

Jughead finally looks up, his expression pained. “I’m aware,” he groans, pressing his face into Archie's neck. “And I like the ones I have now.”

 

Archie puts aside his notebook, bringing the other boy closer. “Then I'll just have to do my best to make them as dark as I can, won't I?” He leans against Jughead, tucking lips and tongue and teeth under his jaw in a bite so hard it makes the dark-haired boy whine. Jughead puts the book down as Archie pushes him down against the mattress.

 

Ravenous kisses and soft laughter bloom between them.

 

“Think you can be quiet, Juggie?” Archie laughs the question against his skin, nibbling idly at his collarbones.

 

“I'm not as loud as you are, my queen.” The last word is drawn out in a soft keen.

 

“ _Prince,”_ Archie corrects absently, “and I disagree.”

 

Jughead smirks. “I'm sure you do. Care to make a wager, Queen Archie?”

 

Archie nips him hard on the shoulder in admonishment. “You know I never back down from a challenge, Juggie.”

 

“You're on, then.”

 

As Archie continues to create more marks on Jughead's pale skin, going south at a meandering pace, Jughead starts to laugh softly. Archie joins in, grin seared into his skin like a burn.

  
Life can be good, and oh so _sweet_.

 

The next day, Jughead officially hands over the crown to Mina publicly in an emergency meeting. Archie's there with him, wanting to hold his hand but knowing that's still not the best idea, amongst allies or not.

 

Because he _gets_ it now, he gets why Kevin was so hesitant to show affection at certain times and places with Joaquin when they were together. The issues with Clyde and his faction have proven that.

 

Because even though it's 2017, there's still such a long way to go before he knows he'll feel safe doing so. Before Jughead will feel safe doing so. There's so much work that still needs to be done.

 

Because progress is ever marching forward, holding hands with time itself. And sometimes it stops, it has to stop, waiting for everyone else to catch up and join the parade.

 

Instead he smiles, gentle and happy and proud. He puts all of the love that he has for the now ex-Serpent King into his eyes, letting them run down Jughead's form as if they were his hands.

 

The other Serpents seem genuinely saddened by his departure. A few actually tear up and Archie wants to laugh. They seemed so very hard and cold when he first got here, that first day when he helped out at the Wyrm.

 

 _We all have our masks_ , he thinks, as he looks at the small crowd. _And maybe it's not just the lethal absence of hope that lures people into gangs but also the promise of being taken care of, being loved and protected by others with the price be damned. Or maybe it's because they know that they'll be loved and protected in them because they feel they can't be, that there's no one else in their lives that can give them that._

  
“Let it be known that Jughead and Archie will always be welcome at the Wyrm,” Mina says, Archie having spaced out during most of her victory lap speech. “They have both given their time and energy for this place. We owe them that.” She turns to both boys with a softer smile on her face, something just for them. “This place will still be safe harbor for you both if you need it. So come visit us. Our offer continues to stand: both of you _are_ family. And we _will_ continue to take care of our own. So keep your jackets, boys. You may need them again one day,” she finishes with a wink.

The final surprise comes when the meeting ends, and they close the Wyrm for a few hours (in accordance with Jughead's grounding) and have a small surprise going away party. Jughead looks dazed but there's a small cake and that's all it takes to make him smile.

 

The guy handing out slices is the guy who Archie saw that second night after finding Jughead, the older Serpent who mostly took care of Hot Dog. To Jughead's surprise, he pats his shoulder kindly, tells him to come visit with his boyfriend to see Hot Dog. His voice is roughened by cigarettes and decades of hard living, his exterior so different from the soft-spoken man he is.

 

“Hot Dog will be sad, kid. He loves you more than he loves me. He's probably gonna freak out and wonder where you've gone, so you owe our mascot _that_ much, right?”

 

Jughead just grins and nods, heart expanding in his chest in a spasm as the man hands him his piece of cake.

 

A week and a half later, Jughead is released from his sentence on good behavior and promises to communicate better with his foster family. The day he finally gets to be with Archie for the first time since the party at the Wyrm is put on hold when he gets another text from his foster mother. He passes their contents along to Archie, who finds out right towards the end of lunch.

 

_Trial starts tomorrow. Worker says she's already talked to your dad about things, and if he might be needed. They still need me to go home and meet with her right after school about it so I'll be late seeing you._

 

_Whatever you need to do, Juggie. Debrief after?_

 

_Yeah. I'll call you._

 

Archie looks up at the girls and Kevin. “The trial starts tomorrow, guys.”

 

Quiet falls over the group.

 

“So soon?” Kevin's the first to break that silence, surprised.

 

“It's like my mom said, that after arraignment things would go faster,” Archie sighs. “And it looks like my dad may be a character witness, too.” He scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted just thinking about it.

 

Veronica reaches out a hand, gently taking one of Archie's. “We'll take it as it comes, Archiekins,” she says with a smile. “One day at a time. One hour at a time.”

 

Betty nods in agreement. “If he needs us, I hope he'll finally be able to tell us.”

 

“I'll see if I can update you guys from my dad,” Kevin shrugs.

 

“ _Pretty_ sure that's illegal, Kev,” Betty laughs, shaking her head.

  
“Anything to help out,” he chirps back brightly.

After school, after the meeting with his worker, Jughead is sprawled out on the couch at home. While the news from the worker wasn't as bad as before, it definitely wasn't _great_ news on the whole.

 

He allows himself a moment of peace before picking up his phone and calling Archie, eyes closed, trying to process.

 

“Hey,” is all Archie says when he picks up. “You okay?”

 

“Looks like I'm probably going to have to be a character witness and I'm pretty sure my father's lawyer _doesn't_ want that. It would put a big dent in the defense for sure.”

 

“Come over. Maybe you and my dad can trade ideas about that.”

 

That makes Jughead smile. “I'll be there in a bit.”

 

Archie's waiting for him by the time he gets there, sitting on his stoop. Just seeing him makes him drop his shoulders, already starting to relax.

 

“Hey,” is all he can say, hugging Archie tight. The other boy doesn't respond, just presses a kiss on his cheek. He takes the redhead's hand as they go back in the house, and stops dead in his tracks when he sees the girls bickering with each other in front of the TV.

 

“Uh, what…” he starts, trailing off at the sight of them, the sheer normalcy of the situation. He turns to Archie, finds the other boy grinning wide and scratching behind his ear with his free hand.

 

“As much as I’d very much _love_ to take credit for this, this little get-together was actually my dad’s idea,” Archie says, squeezing Jughead’s hand. The other boy looks mildly torn, like his body’s trying to tell him to be shell-shocked while his brain just wants to go over to them, to be a boy again in a world where his youth seems ever-dwindling.

 

“It was?” Jughead's voice is soft, quiet, and Archie only _just_ hears it over the argument from the living room. Betty’s holding the remote up and away from a long-armed Veronica, the tv showing the Netflix screen for ‘romantic movies’.

 

“ _Because_ , Ronnie. Jug wouldn't wanna watch _Titanic_ with you even if you _didn't_ know the whole script practically by heart.”

 

“Well he can suck an egg, then. I want to watch Leonardo DiCaprio in his frankly _loin-drenchingly_ erotic years.”

 

Betty laughs then, stretching her arm out further as Veronica makes another grab for it. “We're here _for Juggie_ , V, the least you can do is not make him sit through some inane -”

 

Veronica gasps, hand fluttering up to clutch at her heart. “Elizabeth Cooper, you _take that back_ or so help me, God -”

 

Archie finds himself chuckling, too, eyes flicking over to his father as he comes out of the kitchen with a soda in each hand. “Yeah, Jug. I kinda...figured you might need your family around you tonight. Your whole family.” Fred shrugs, handing off a drink to each boy as Jughead reaches up to take it with boneless fingers.

 

He stares at it for several seconds, eyes trailing a bead of condensation along the outside of the bottle as he takes in the sounds of a full house around him. The familiarity of it squeezes his heart, pricks at the backs of his eyes and closes his throat, and he realizes he can't find the words to express his gratitude, his immense _love_ for everyone around him. Fred seems to see that, smiling gently at him and throwing an arm around his shoulders with a solid squeeze. “I know,” he says quietly, clearing his throat after as Jughead looks up to find him at a loss for words as well. “You may want to go stop the fight in the living room, though, before they put a hole in the wall.”

 

Jughead smiles up at him, shaky and full, and follows Archie as the other boy tugs at his hand to bring him into the other room. “Just take us out of this subsection, Bets, Jug’s not gonna want any of that.”

 

Veronica turns to them, unable to hide the quirk in her smile even as she continues to defend her choices. “How _rude_. Is this how it is now? You just speak for him, Archie?”

 

Jughead matches her bright eyes with his own, smirk twitching a corner of his mouth. “What can I say? The boy knows what I like. Why don't we put on a Miyazaki movie? I think I remember Netflix adding a few good ones recently.”

 

“Good _lord_ , why is it always a foreign or animated movie with you? Why can't we watch something live-action?” she grumbles, and quickly adds to her request when she sees Jughead’s mouth open quickly. “And _not_ Tarantino. Preferably one where no one _dies_.”

 

“I love _several_ movies where everyone lives, Ronnie, and how can you be one to talk? You just tried to get us to watch a movie where the whole plot is that the _fucking boat sinks_!”

 

“Try to be civil, please, with less cursing,” Fred calls from the other room over Veronica’s laughter, the four of them grinning together.

 

“That is a _cinematic masterpiece_ , I will have you know,” Veronica sticks her tongue out at him, and Jughead rolls his eyes as he takes the remote from Betty’s outstretched hand.

 

“ _Please_. You wouldn't know a cinematic masterpiece if it wore a Louis Vuitton logo.”

 

Veronica bends down to grab a small handful of popcorn from the bowl on the couch and tosses a few kernels at him, snickering as one bounces off his beanie. “ _Fine_ , Ghost Rider. Pick whatever your little black heart desires.”

 

Jughead grins in victory, flopping himself onto the couch and relocating the popcorn bowl into his lap. “Excellent, that means we're watching -”

 

“Why don't you put on a Disney movie? You three used to go crazy for that when you were kids. Veronica, I'm sure you did, too.” Fred’s voice carries over from the hallway, and Jughead finds the controller snatched from his hand as Betty squeals with delight.

 

“Uh, _no_ -” he starts, and Archie takes the spot beside him with a laugh, curling his arm around the couch behind his shoulders. Veronica’s clapping with glee, grabbing a pillow and throwing it down on the floor beside Jughead's legs before settling on it. “ _No_ , we are absolutely _too old_ -”

 

“You've been outvoted, Juggie,” Archie grins, laughing at the bewildered expression on the other boy’s face.

 

“Wait, what...what just happened? I was _seconds_ away from choosing _Spirited Away_ and then suddenly we're watching...oh my god, Betty, _please_ pick something other than -”

 

“ _Hercules_!” Veronica sing-songs, smiling at the blonde as she scoots in on Jughead’s other side, tucking the controller out of reach. She turns her gaze to Jughead, grin wide on her face, and begins to sing along with the opening number.

 

Jughead groans, dropping his head back on the couch as Veronica joins in, and Archie places a kiss to his temple in between snickers. “Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, trying to hide the fact that his exasperation is mostly surface-level, his smile still pulling up his lips and his heart still full to bursting.

 

_My family._

 

He looks back at Fred, who's watching them with the smallest pleased smile.

 

_My whole family._

 

And soon, Jughead finds himself singing along, which he immediately hates himself for.

 

But it's enough.

 

He thinks about the meeting with his worker today. He looks at his friends, and the man who helped raise him. He thinks about Mina and the Serpents who were on his side.

 

He thinks of this boy sitting next to him, laughing with his entire body at Betty’s over-exaggerated impression of Megara, with hair like fire and a heart like a lion.

 

_“The lethal absence of hope”, huh?_

 

He feels Archie's hand weave into his and smiles. The boy who walked into hell for him with eyes open, unflinching, unafraid.

 

_Not anymore. Not while they're here with me._

 

His grin grows as Archie squeezes his hand.

 

_Never again._

  
  
“This is my favorite way of waking up,” Jughead murmurs that next morning, draped over Archie. They're both littered with fresh bruises and bites, more extensive than before. Making up for lost time.

Archie’s fingers lazily drag themselves up and down his spine. Sweat cools on their bodies, and Archie can't remember who woke up (and initiated things first) _,_ nor does he care.

 

He makes a soft noise in agreement. “Wish it could be every morning,” he purrs back in contentment, kissing Jughead's forehead.

 

“If it were, it would lose its novelty. Like all things, I'm sure.” The last word is yawned, Jughead rubbing his cheek against Archie's chest.

 

“Never, Jughead Jones. We could spend a million mornings together like this and it would _never_ get old,” Archie chuckles, fond and soft.

 

“You, my queen, are a sap - “

 

“ _Prince_ \- “

 

“And I'll never tire of that,” Jughead finishes in a soft whisper, grin nearly splitting his face with its size. It's brighter than it's been in over a year, that smile. Archie's heart lightens and he kisses the dark-haired boy, both groaning a bit at well-used muscles.

 

The alarm goes off, and Jughead glares at it. Archie laughs softly.

 

“We should probably get ready before your dad comes to pry us out of bed,” Jughead sighs, rolling off of the redhead and into the bed, looking for his boxers on the floor. “I'll give you a ride.”

 

“That would be appreciated,” Archie answers, stretching on the bed but not getting up until Jughead swats at him.

 

“Tease.”

 

“Isn't that what queens _do_?” Archie asks with a laugh and Jughead lights up.

 

“So you finally admit that you're my queen?”

 

“ _Never._ But I knew it would get your attention,” Archie laughs until he gets a shirt to the face.

 

They race off to school, and Archie is reluctant to leave Jughead. It must show, because Jughead just pulls him into a kiss, something slow burning with a promise for later.

 

“I'll pick you up later, okay?”

 

“Yeah. See you later.”

  


Archie's sitting in class, staring out the window when he hears everyone starting to whisper. He turns around and sees Jughead there at the door, smirking at him.

 

“Uhh…” Archie starts, breath halting in his lungs.“I...what? Why’re you here, Juggie?”

 

“I _go_ here, Andrews. The fuck do you think?”

 

Archie nearly overturns his desk as he gets up, long quick strides to the door. He takes Jughead's face in his hands and kisses him so hard that it knocks the breath from both of them. Their classmates stop dead, and Veronica just grins, clearly enjoying the shock everyone else seems to be experiencing.

 

Archie can feel Jughead's grin burning against his lips, hands tangling in his hair.

 

Reggie is the first one to speak.

 

“...wait. So all those times you had all those hickeys… Those were from _Jughead?_ ”

 

They part for air. Jughead tilts his head. “Why, Reggie? Jealous? I'd kiss you too, but I'm not sure Archie would be happy with th - “

 

“Mister Andrews, Mister Jones.” Their teacher is standing behind them, less than pleased. “If you're quite finished, it would be wonderful if you could take your seats.”

 

They settle back into their old seats as if nothing had changed to hooting from their classmates. Their teacher, an older man with a pale balding head and a beer belly, looks like he wants to cry.

 

“Yes, well, entrances aside, please welcome back Mister Jones. He's back for good now, as he so gleefully told me earlier.” It's almost snarled. “Anyway, let's get started for today.”

 

When he's able to, Archie taps out a text to Jughead.

 

_Why didn't you tell me?_

 

_I wanted it to be a surprise. Got the news from my worker yesterday. They're transferring me back for good, afraid that I might go off the deep end with my father's trial and all. Your dad petitioned the state after he found out about me as the Serpent King._

 

That brings a grin to Archie's face. _We gotta do something nice for him._

 

_I'd like to. We'll think of something._

 

It's all worth it when Betty comes to the door after class ends, waiting to walk with everyone to their next class. She nearly bursts into tears, smiling all the while, hugging Jughead so hard he can't really breathe but it's okay, it’s fine as Veronica and Kevin and Archie catch up.

 

It's perfect.

 

“Welcome home, Juggie,” she murmurs, kissing his cheek. Archie takes his hand, and he smiles.

 

“I'm home.”

  
But no one is sure who he says this to, not even Jughead himself.

 

That evening, after dinner and toward bedtime, Archie is dozing next to him while Jughead has his laptop out, glaring at the blank page.

 

When Jughead sees their two jackets hanging side by side on the wall, the idea he's prayed for since he finished his manuscript on Jason's murder finally comes.

 

_Towns are always, to some degree, at war._

 

_In fair Verona, it was the Capulets and the Montagues. To Dante and Milton, it was heaven and hell duking it out. North and south, east and west. Black and white, old and young, rich and poor; all of these opposites eventually clash._

 

_War, along with death, is the great equalizer. It can never be truly escaped. It can only very occasionally be reasoned with, to avoid more fighting._

 

_This is the story of another war, a silent one going on in the place one would least suspect it. Under the thin flesh of a small town, a battle is waged between two boys._

 

Archie's snoozing peacefully now, face relaxed in sleep. Jughead pulls him closer before going back to his keyboard.

 

_This war is not new. These boys have heard about it since they were small children, and it has been passed down to them from their parents. They have seen it in the faces of their loved ones, with their neighbors. At the small doomed drive-in, and at the local diner._

 

_But they never thought it would touch them, or their undying friendship._

 

_They were wrong._

 

Jughead stares at the cursor a few minutes more before he sighs and saves his work for the evening. The movement gets Archie awake again.

 

He glances at the clock, yawning and stretching, missing Jughead's warmth as the dark-haired boy plugs his laptop in to charge for the night.

 

“You finally get hit with that idea you're looking for?” Archie's words are thick with sleep as Jughead slinks back into bed, snuggling down into the covers, legs tangling with Archie's. Archie pulls him closer, reaching over him to turn out the light.

Another new moon, he notices belatedly as Jughead speaks.

“Yeah. It was literally in front of me the whole time.”

 

It feels fitting, Archie decides, before looking at the dark-haired boy's face half-hidden by shadow. That they come full circle like this, that they end up just as they started but on the other side of that coin; in joy and not sorrow, in love and not lust, in forgiveness and not anger.

 

“What is it going to be about?” Archie runs a finger down Jughead's nose.

 

“It'll be about a small-town war, and the Serpent King,” Jughead murmurs with a small smile, “and two boys that finally stopped being assholes and fell in love.”

 

That makes Archie grin. “I should get a cut if you sell it since you’ll be basing it off of me.”

 

Jughead rolls his eyes. “It's a little soon to be looking at advance money, Arch. I think I need to finish it first.” He looks thoughtful before adding, “or at least find a book agent to pitch it to.”

 

Archie just grins wider, pulling him closer. “It'll be a bestseller. And I'll be with you at your book launch.”

 

“I'm holding you to that, my queen.”

 

“ _Prince_ ,” Archie huffs, then smiles again. “I love you.”

  
“I know.” Jughead kisses him. Archie laughs against his lips, pulling him closer, and Jughead can't think of a better way to end a night, or start a story.

 

END


	4. Soundtrack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usagi here, fellow kids.
> 
> So. This fic is finally complete and it's been bittersweet to revisit it while getting the formatting right for posting. So I thought I would include a little bonus for y'all for getting though the whole thing: a soundtrack. Enjoy it - all of these artists are really great and I love them. 
> 
> See you on the flip side.

Usagi's soundtrack for this fic:

**ARCHIE**

  1. Brand New - “Jesus Christ”
  2. Radiohead - “A Punch-up At A Wedding”
  3. As It Is - “Okay”
  4. Halsey - “Bad at Love”
  5. Kat Dahlia - “Mirror”
  6. Emily Haines - “Bottom of the World”



 

**JUGHEAD**

  1. All Time Low - “Nightmares” 
  2. Kendrick Lamar - “Fear”
  3. Halsey - “These Walls Talk”
  4. Sleigh Bells - “Hyper Dark” 
  5. Nine Inch Nails - “Me, I'm Not”
  6. Jose Gonzalez - “Down the Line”



 

**BOTH**

  1. Glass Animals - “Black Mambo”
  2. Chase Atlantic - “Why Stop Now?”
  3. Dua Lipa - “Hotter Than Hell”
  4. Karen O - “Beast”
  5. Crosses - “This is a trick”
  6. Lorde - “Homemade Dynamite”




End file.
